


clipped wings

by Everydaynerd



Category: Twilight Series - Stephenie Meyer
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Book: New Moon, F/M, Healing, Imprinting, Imprinting (Twilight)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-22
Updated: 2020-12-06
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:21:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 30,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25439119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Everydaynerd/pseuds/Everydaynerd
Summary: it's Paul who finds Bella collapsed in the woods, overcome by dehydration and shock; for reasons unknown to them both, his warmth is the only thing that breaks through her numbness.trying to understand why her bodily reaction to edward's departure is so out of her control, Bella finds herself drawn to La Push as she heals and tries to find the person she used to be with jake and leah at her side.(she doesn't even realize she's falling in love with paul along the way till his presence feels like home.)
Relationships: Paul Lahote/Bella Swan
Comments: 68
Kudos: 392
Collections: Twilightcollection





	1. nobody knows you now

Bella’s always known about his speed—from day one, has been aware of the fact that he can move so much faster than a human.

But she’d never fully comprehended it till now, when he’s there and gone in the space of a blink.

She can't believe it, at first—races aimlessly through the woods, sure if she just runs faster, screams louder, she’ll find him.

(He can’t have just _left_ her—not after everything, not after the hell she’s gone through to be with him, not after all the promises he’s made of forever—)

Her eyes flutter, eventually; she’s been out here for hours, and isn’t the best at hydrating usually, so she’s gone most of the day without water, and on top of the anxiety and the terror and disbelief.

(She has to find him— _needs_ him, is sweating and shaking because she can’t breathe, can’t think with him gone—)

She catches herself against the trunk of a tree, pausing when she feels dizzy and faint; sees the sun much lower than it was when he disappeared.

That’s when it hits her.

( _He’s gone_.)

It sucks the breath out of her; she collapses with shock, not noticing the broken branches that dig into her hands and knees, leaves and dirt staining her jeans.

Everything hurts—physically, her muscles ache, and she’s just curled into a ball wishing it would all go away, wishing he would come back.

(it’s all consuming, the need for him—the ache, the pain of his absence that defies everything else.)

She doesn’t know how long she’s out there; it could be seconds, hours, days—she wouldn’t know the difference.

(it’s all a blur.)

Night falls, eventually.

Bella hears the animals begin to come out—should be scared, as she’s clearly easy prey and she knows all too well the kind of predators that lurk in these woods.

But she can’t find it in her to care, to defend against any potential danger.

(All she can think about is him—she _needs_ him.)

Branches crack nearby, and a part of her that feels far away recognizes the sounds of a body moving towards her.

(Nonetheless, she doesn’t move.)

Eyes closed, she doesn’t see them—hears the snuffling of an animal, a bark that sounds like a howl.

( _Is this the end?_ )

The footsteps grow softer even as they near her.

“Bella?” The voice is male, gruff, and unfamiliar, and she’s trembling so hard and too tired to respond.

A hand touches her shoulder—

And for the first time in hours, she can _feel_ something beyond the hole inside of her.

Can feel the heat of his skin through the fabric of her jacket, scalding enough that it breaks through her numbness.

(The burn of it is reassuring.)

“Bella, I’m going to pick you up now, okay?”

Arms slide beneath the back of her knees and her spine, the same warmth alighting where his skin touches. She instinctively curls against his chest as he lifts her, whimpering as the heat seeps into her.

(His warmth is the only thing that breaks through her haze, the only thing she can feel.)

(Something in her chest whispers that she’s safe, now.)

“You’re okay, bud.” He whispers it near her ear as he walks.

She knows the route is uneven, no clear path, roots and brambles strewn between trees; they must be winding through the woods but his gait is smooth and steady.

She zones in and out, so she’s not sure how long it takes—definitely less than the hours it took her to make her way out there.

Eventually there are other footsteps approaching—she tunes in enough to cower away from the sound.

 _“No,”_ she whispers, curling further inward, pressing closer to the hard chest that’s warm against her face.

“It’s okay, bud,” the voice promises again, skin rumbling beneath her as he speaks.

(anything he says, something inside her whispers to trust.)

“It’s just a friend,” he soothes, before turning his attention to the other person she can’t see. “She’s fine, Sam. You should take her the last leg home, though, the chief has seen me in too many fights to be happy if it’s me carrying her in.”

Something that sounds like a bark, and a moment later she’s being transferred to different arms—they’re hot, the same as her guy, but— _not_ the same, somehow; the warmth doesn’t carry the same comfort.

(doesn’t carry the same sense of being safe.)

Bella sucks in a deep breath at the loss of sensation, teeth chattering with the loss of warmth as the one he’d called Sam secures his grip on her.

“You good?” Sam asks.

Her guy clears his throat. “Yeah, I just—I don’t know. I’m glad she’s okay.”

Sam hesitates, like something about this is strange, but she can feel his body move as he nods.

There’s some unspoken communication between them she doesn’t see, eyes still squeezed tight.

And then they’re moving, and she can hear noise, and there are lights against her eyelids, and she doesn’t know why they’re all so loud—

And people are saying her name, but all she can think about is that he’s not walking with them anymore, _why is he not with her where did he go why did he go_

_(is he leaving me too he can’t leave—)_

And she’s still overpowered by the loss of Edward, the hurt and shaking and sweating she feels inside her, and yet—it’s not that she _misses_ him, it’s that she needs him, and there’s something off about it she can’t quite think coherently to put a name to—

But she misses the warmth, the heat, all she can feel is cold, and where did he go why is she so cold why is Sam carrying her when he was so warm and in his arms she could _feel_ —

The lights grow brighter, and then a familiar voice is calling her name hoarsely.

She’s switching hands again, and the new person holding her staggers for a moment, but the scent is familiar, and comforting, one that’s always meant love and home and safety—

 _“Charlie,”_ she whispers, moving shaky fingers to clutch at his flannel in relief. _“Dad.”_

(he’ll find out what she needs, make the hurt go away, find the warmth for her again.)

“I’ve got you, Bells,” he promises in a croak, and she feels him carry her inside.

She’s being set on the couch, and she curls into the fetal position instinctively, as if it’ll push the trembling broken parts so close together they’ll forget they’re not connected anymore.

“Thank you for finding her, Sam,” her father is saying. “I really appreciate it. If anything had happened to her…” he chokes on the words, and Bella can hear a sound that she’d guess is her father clapping him on the shoulder.

“We’re always happy to help—although it’s really Paul you should thank. He’s the one that found her.”

Her father is quiet for a beat, and then says something else quietly, but Bella can’t hear anymore—

 _(Paul,_ her mind whispers.)

(Everything fades to black.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> title from bird set free by sia//chapter title from dying in la by p!atd
> 
> my brain is refusing to work on my dramione fic at the moment SO here we go  
> thank you for reading--next chapter to come soo!
> 
> welcome to the party, loves.


	2. dark night (now I see daylight)

It gets worse, at first.

The days drag on, and it gets worse—she’s overwrought with nausea, sweats and chills, eyes wide and unseeing, even the slightest bit of light incredibly painful.

Charlie’s worried, and she’s hates knowing that she’s causing him unnecessary stress.

(especially after everything last spring—she’s starting to wonder how she let that happen?)

“Can I get you anything, Bells?” he asks gently every day. He’s being so, so careful with her, so terrified doing the wrong thing might make it worse.

“No, dad, I just—I’m just tired. I don’t feel well.”

He bites his tongue to keep from mentioning that she hasn’t felt well every day since Edward left.

(Something—something has to change.)

Bella wishes there were words, but—she doesn’t know how to explain it to him.

(Everyone’s assuming she’s heartbroken, hurt by the Cullen’s departure.)

And yeah, it hurts that people she considered family abandoned her without looking back. That her forever made so many promises and yet didn’t hesitate to walk away.

(She’d already been so reluctant to believe it, after the promises her mother had made over the years, but—he’d convinced her.)

(And now she’s the one left behind, unable to feel anything but emptiness.)

And she’s always cold—finds herself desperate for warmth, wondering about the brief solace she’d felt that night in the woods.

 _(Paul_ , her mind whispers.)

Everyone calls; Angela, who sweetly offers an ear to listen, Jake, who she hasn’t seen in ages, Mike, whose words she doesn’t even tune all the way in to hear once she picks up on the flirty and excited tone of his voice.

But after a few weeks of their calls going unreturned, of her functionally being a zombie at school, the calls and attempts at conversation stop—

(Their sympathy is running out, she can feel it.)

A distant part of her is saddened by the distance that begins to form, at the way she can feel her relationships disintegrating around her.

She knows she cares, knows these people matter to her, but she can’t focus, can’t feel, can’t register anything beyond the need—

And more than anything, she needs to get it together for Charlie’s benefit; she loves her dad, knows she’s his entire world—he deserves better than to be so terrified on her behalf.

But she can’t help it, finds herself desperately wrapping herself in her quilt, in the clothes she’d worn a month ago, surrounding herself with anything Edward had ever touched—anything for a hint of his scent, a whisper of his presence.

She just have words or logic to explain it—she knows it’s irrational, almost insane, but she can’t help herself.

(The sense of him is the only thing that subdues the ache, if only momentarily.)

Her dreams are filled with howls, a silvery grey wolf that follows her, protects her from anyone who comes near.

(She doesn’t know why she feels so _safe_ when the wolf appears in her dreams, but she does all the same.)

(And when the dream wolf curls up next to her, she can almost remember what it’s like to feel _warm_ —)

It’s a Friday evening. There’s a banging at the door.

Bella closes her eyes tighter, tries to block out the noise; hopes if the person goes unanswered for long enough they’ll figure out that Charlie’s not home and go away.

But ten minutes later, they haven’t relented.

(Bella doesn’t understand how they’re not _tired_ , by now.)

Eventually, the sound becomes too much—she stumbles her way down the stairs, irritably approaching the door with her quilt wrapped around her shoulders.

She’s scowling as she opens the door, ready to snap at whoever’s on the other side—

Only to find herself silent with shock when she comes face to face with Jessica.

“J-Jess?”

Her friend pushes past her brazenly, closing the door behind her before making her way further into the house. “You don’t want to come out, that’s fine. I’ll come to you. But like hell am I going to let you push everyone away and sit alone until you wither away.”

Bella opens and closes her mouth, at a loss for words, but her friend just follows her to the couch. Sits down beside her, flicks through cable stations while Bella curls up in a ball, slipping in and out of consciousness.

(Each time she wakes, her friend is there; letting her be, but steady at her side.)

It’s—Jess comes off as bubblegum-gossip-popular-princess, so everyone assumes she’s shallow, and selfish, and unconcerned with anyone around her.

(Even Bella’s been guilty of making similar offhanded assumptions, though she can’t quite recall—)

But beneath her enthusiasm, the outgoing attitude and lightheartedness she emits, she cares—deeply.

She notices things, pays attention to people, isn’t afraid to put herself out there to go the extra mile and figure out what they need.

(in this moment, it means the world.)

A couple hours later, Jess disappears into the kitchen; comes back out with a microwaved bowl of soup she forces into Bella’s hands.

“ ‘m not hungry.”

Jess levels her with a look. “Yeah? When was the last time you had an actual meal, with actual nutrients?” She mutes the tv, expression serious as she faces Bella. “Listen, Bella, this has to stop.”

Bella blinks at her, crossing her arms defensively. “Excuse me?”

A sigh from Jess. “You need to eat. And you need to shower. Not optional.”

“You can’t just show up and tell me what to do in my own house—”

“Yes, I can, it’s called being your best friend, dumbass, so sit down and listen to me.” Jess sits down across from her, one hand planted on the back of the couch. “Everyone is tiptoeing around you, but I’m going to say it like it is: this is _not_ normal. Your boyfriend moved away, and it’s okay to be upset, but this isn’t just upset—this is unhealthy, this is completely falling apart.”

Bella sucks in a shaky breath, unable to meet her eyes. “I know, but I—I can’t help it. It’s not even emotional—I’m a little sad, but I feel fine about it, you know? It’s—it physically _hurts_. That’s the part that’s—killing me. I—I don’t understand why.”

Jessica moves to squeeze her shoulders in a tight hug. “We’ll get through this, Bella. Whatever it is. You’re not alone. But you have to let the people around you help you, okay? Me, your dad, your hot friend Jake—you have to let us in.”

Bella’s lips twitch, and she nods reluctantly. She reaches to pick up the bowl of soup, hands shaky, and slowly begins eating it.

Jess puts on the _Pride and Prejudice movie_ while she does—rolls her eyes and makes acerbic comments the whole time, but sits through it nonetheless, knowing it’s one of Bella’s favorites; the familiar script is a soothing backdrop while she forces herself to ingest the soup.

(It’s slow going—she’s still nauseous, and her body hasn’t received more than a few bites of food at once in weeks, so she can only intake a little bit at a time.)

Eventually, she finishes; while she still feels nauseous, somehow, she can already feel the rest of her body responding positively to the calories, the fuel making her muscles feel just a bit less weary, mind less sluggish and faint.

“Thank you,” she whispers, after.

Jess smiles softly, squeezing Bella’s hand gently with her own. “Of course. Always.”

She ends up spending the night; they both sleep on the pull-out couch, watching some sitcom that they kind of hate but feels so far from their own life—it’s a good distraction, Bella thinks.

It’s the worst sleep she’s gotten in ages, the makeshift bed devoid of any scent or memory of Edward.

(A few times she tries to get up, to sneak up to her bed for just a few minutes and be soothed by his scent, but Jess is a light enough sleeper that she wakes each time—gives Bella a wary look, waits for her to lay back down.)

She sleeps terribly, and she wakes with the headache that’s been her constant companion for weeks aching worse than ever—

And yet her mind feels clearer than it has since Edward left, somehow.

She’s woken by the sound of the front door, Charlie humming under his breath as his heavy footsteps come inside; the sound of his gunbelt and keys being hung up, the bullets being emptied from the gun itself.

Bella sits up with a stretch; gets to her feet and pads into the kitchen for a glass of water.

Charlie jumps when he sees her. “Good god, Bells, you scared the hell out of me. What are you doing up so early?”

She shrugs. “I was on the pull-out—I think the different mattress woke me up, or maybe the light from the window.” At her father’s confusion, she explains, “Jess slept over.”

His face is full of surprise—at first she assumes it’s because she’s never had a friend stay over before, but then her dad says, “I’m glad to hear that. It’s been too long since you spent time with any of your friends—Jess is good for you.”

And the way he says it, so soft like he’s afraid to spook her—

(He’s surprised that she spent time with a _person_ , after the ghost she’s become.)

It’s this, more than anything else, that hits home just how bad things have gotten—just how far she’s spiraled.

(The relief in her father’s eyes—she hadn’t realized how much weight he’s been carrying, lately.)

She makes a vow to herself to listen to her friends, going forward; to do whatever it takes to try to get better.

Before she can think better of it, she pitches herself forward, throwing her arms around Charlie’s waist. “I love you, Dad.”

He gently rubes her back, takes a moment to respond; when he does, his voice is raspy.

(On the verge of tears.)

“I love you, too, kiddo.”

She puts on a smile when she pulls away; it’s not quite real, but—it’s a start.

When Jessica wakes up, she badgers Bella into eating a bowl of ceral; small, her body still readjusting, but— _this is good._

“Okay. We need to get you out of the house—what are you in the mood for?”

When Bella just blinks at her, she purses her lips thoughtfully; sips on the coffee she’d brewed, making herself right at home in the Swans’ place.

“What about some places that have nothing to do with—with him?” she’s careful to avoid saying Edward’s name.

(she’s more perceptive than anyone gives her credit for.)

“I—don’t know.” Bella winces. “Everywhere in Forks…”

“So not Forks,” Jess says; no questions, no judgement, like it’s just that easy to only work with what Bella’s comfortable with. “Seattle? Port Angeles—oh, we could go to that bookstore you liked, last year.”

Bella sucks in a breath at the reminder. “No, not—not there.”

(the place she and Edward had first been alone, the place she’d gone when she suspected Edward was a vampire after hearing the legends from—)

“Jake,” she blurts out, something about the thought just feeling _right_. “We could—we could go to La Push and see Jake. Maybe go to the beach.”

(It’s as far from Edward as it gets, too, which doesn’t hurt.)

Jess looks a bit surprised, but nods nonetheless. “Okiedoke, sounds good to me.”

She offers to drive, and they climb into her sedan.

The nice thing about Jess, especially right now, is that she doesn’t require anything from Bella; she loves her, always _wants_ her input, but is also happy to chatter away without response, if that’s what Bella needs. She fills the silence that has lately felt deafening; rather than dwelling on how off Bella is, still makes the situation feel—normal.

(It means the world.)

After they cross the La Push town line, Jessica says, “Which way am I going next?”

And Bella falters.

She’s been to the Blacks’ a million times before, but—the way is hazy.

(she could make excuses, because it’s always been her dad that’s driven, so she never _really_ needed to memorize the route, but—)

(she used to know it, didn’t she?)

“I—I don’t know.” Her breathing quickens. “I don’t—I don’t know, how do I not know? Why can’t I remember—”

“Hey, Bella, breathe. You’re okay,” Jess promises, slowing the car to a stop so she can turn to face the other girl. “Just breathe. It’s not a big deal. We’ll just drive around till something looks familiar to you, or we see someone and can ask for directions. Small town, right? So everybody probably knows each other. It’s okay.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” Bella forces a smile, but can still feel the racing of her heart.

(Something she can’t explain just feels _off_.)

They amble along till they come across the diner, and Bella sits up straighter. “Here—let’s go in here. My dad’s friend Harry and his wife run it, we can ask them, or whoever’s working.”

Even though it’s her idea, she hesitates before moving towards the entrance; Jess smiles and takes the lead.

It’s decently busy, inside; eyes flicker to them, unfamiliar faces among a small community where everyone knows everyone.

Jessica approaches the bar counter.

A waitress looks up from behind the register and cocks an eyebrow. “You lost, Barbie?”

Offering a dazzling smile, Jess leans forward as though confiding in her. “Would you happen to know the way to Jacob Black’s place?”

The other girl narrows her eyes, suspicious. “What do you want with Jake?”

Her voice is deep, and raspy; it’s—familiar, almost.

(Something about her eyes, the arch of her cheekbones—)

“Leah?” Bella says, surging forward from behind Jess. “Is that you?”

Leah’s eyes widen. “Bella Swan? Haven’t seen you in—god, must’ve been years now. I’m surprised to see you; your dad was over last week and said you’ve been—having a hard time.”

Bella grimaces at the mention of her recent state. “Yeah, I—haven’t been myself, lately.” She clears her throat. “I wanted to pop by Jake’s, but—I can’t seem to remember how to get there.”

She flushes with embarrassment at the admission; sensing her discomfort, Jess slides forward again, flashing her dimples at Leah. “Pretty please?”

Something flashes across Leah’s face. “And who are you?”

“I’m the best friend who dragged her out of bed. Jess,” she introduces herself, with a smile that’s genuine.

Leah nods, then turns her attention to Bella. “Don’t stress too much about not remembering—you were a lot younger the last time you were over, and they live off backroads with no signage or paving. I can draw you a map, it might be kind of confusing, but—"

The door swings open, and Bella’s body breaks out in goosebumps, every hair standing on its end.

“Perfect timing,” Leah calls to whoever just walked in. “These two need help getting to Billy’s place. There’s free lunch in it for you if you take them.”

“I get free lunch anyway,” a gruff voice points out, and Bella jolts, chills running through her as he speaks.

_(Warm—)_

“Yes but if you do this favor for me I won’t spit in your free lunch the way I normally do,” Leah says, infusing her tone with sweetness.

Jess can’t help but burst out laughing delightedly at the comment, earning a wink form Leah.

“Fine,” the guy says. “But you owe me Clearwater. And I walked, today, so I’ll have to ride with you two.”

“The more the merrier,” Jessica beams at him. “Thanks so much!”

Bella’s turning towards the door just as Leah says, _“Thanks, Paul,”_ and her mind goes haywire.

_(Paul—safe—)_

Her cheeks grow warm at the realization that this is the guy that found her at her darkest moment, who’s seen her at her worst, and yet she can’t focus on the embarrassment, all she can think about is him and the strange trust she can’t help but feel—

She notes the tattoos, pitch black against the smooth brown of his skin; notes the muscles, bulging, prominent veins along his biceps; notes his cropped hair, shiny and sharply cut—

The arch of his thick eyebrows, the dramatic set of his jaw—

/

Paul lifts his gaze, meets her eyes, and feels the world itself shift.

(Everything—changes.)


	3. finally//beautiful stranger

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so overwhelmed by all of the love this story has already received!! Thank y’all so much for all of your kind words and interest you’ve already sent my way. 
> 
> I’ve definitely been thinking on how I would do this forever and been reading this type of fic for like ten years, so while I can’t always promise quick updates I do promise to do my best to do the storyline justice

It must be a full minute later that Bella realizes she’s been staring at him.

She abruptly turns her eyes downward, feeling herself flush scarlet; and yet she can’t help but flick her gaze upward a second later.

(She feels her cheeks grow even warmer when she catches him staring back at her.)

The look on his face is—awe-struck, confused, shocked, all at once; he closes his eyes, briefly, shaking his head like he’s reminding himself where he is.

“Thanks so much for doing this,” Jess smiles at him, bounding forward towards the exit. “I’m Jessica, by the way. And this is Bella.”

For a moment, Bella’s heart rate speeds up, wondering if he’ll bring up their prior meeting in the middle of the diner, but no—Paul just nods without a word.

(Because he knows the topic is sensitive?)

(Or worse, because he doesn’t even remember the moments she hasn’t been able to keep out of her mind?)

She’s antsy, as they make their way to the car; Paul’s presence has brain going a million miles an hour, even as she tries to tell herself to _calm the fuck down_.

He’s quiet, face expressionless, very much giving off strong-but-silent signals, his posture radiating a desire to be left alone to everyone around him.

“You can have shotgun,” she says quietly when they reach the car, tucking her hair behind her ears and tugging on the ends to avoid meeting his gaze. “I know Jake always whine about long legs in the backseat—not that I’m looking at your legs,” she hurries to clarify, “I just meant—because you’re tall, so your legs are probably longer than mine, and you’re doing us a favor and—” she clamps a hand over her mouth to make herself stop talking.

She’s surprised at herself rambling—speaking has been so hard lately, and yet...

(right now, she doesn’t feel the aching need, the irritation and sweats and chills that have been consuming her for weeks.)

(right now she can almost _breathe_.)

Cheeks pink, she climbs into the backseat before she can embarrass herself further, trying not to look at Jess’s raised eyebrows.

/

His _imprint_.

The possibility had always been there, of course, but—he’d never really thought it would happen.

(Never thought the universe would be so cruel as to bind some poor soul to him.)

He manages to reel in his shock after a beat, once his mate looks away from him; her friend starts talking, and he’s grateful for the distraction.

An imprint—and Bella Swan, of all people, who until recently was sleeping with his nemesis; a fragile, slip of a girl who looks so exhausted and iron deficient she’s liable to fall over at any moment

(He’s already thinking up ways of getting her to up her nutrient intake without even deciding to, the need to take care of her already taking over his mind.)

There’s a part of him that’s tempted to resist it—to ignore the imprint, sprint in the opposite direction, turn away from the permanence of it all. Spare her the travesty of a lifetime with him.

But he’s selfish—god, he can’t help himself. He knows she deserves better, but he can’t resist the pull; and the imprint bond would hurt her anyway, if he attempted to avoid her.

(it’s—he knows she would be better off without him in the long run, but he needs her like oxygen, even as he’s standing feet away; how could he even attempt to convince himself he could survive giving her up from his life?)

She mumbles, as they approach the car, descending into nonsense and blushing so warm he can sense the temperature change,

He can’t help the smirk that grows on his face at the way she stumbles through her words, frazzled as she is.

Bella’s quiet the whole way to the chief’s place; so silent he begins to worry; her chatterbox friend doesn’t seem surprised, and he can’t figure out if it’s reassuring or worrisome that this appears to be her normal.

The friend asks him a bunch of questions, but after being met with one-word answers she eventually switches to singing along with the radio.

(He’s glad she doesn’t seem to take his snippiness personally.)

He’s hoping he can get away before Billy and the kid spot him—Billy’d always thought he was bad news until he phased and is now attempting to be a supportive council member to him as a protector; and like most of the other young people in the tribe assuming he, Sam, and Jared are entitled asshole receiving special treatment and acting in charge for no reason, Jacob currently hates his guts.

(The council likes to act like this wolf thing is a gift; for Paul, it’s more of a burden—one he’s struggling to bear, on top of everything else.)

The car rolls slowly up to the house, a downside to non-trucks on a rocky dirt road. Spotting Jake coming out of the garage at the sound of their approach, Paul hops up out of his seat quickly, eager to head out.

Jessica makes a face. “Oh, shoot, I didn’t even think about how you’d get back—we can drive you, I think I can remember the way now—”

“Don’t worry about it.” He stretches his arms, eager for the solitude—the chance to process the imprint. “I like the fresh air. Usually walk most places around here, anyway.”

(It hadn’t been a choice, for most of his life—they’d never had the money for clothes without holes, let alone a car.)

(Now, he works two jobs, but it’s become habit; and he doesn’t mind the walk, now that it’s his choice to do so.)

“Okay, if you’re sure. Thanks so much for all your help!”

He nods to them both and begins to turn away when his imprint says, _“Be safe.”_

So softly, he might not have heard it were it not for his enhanced hearing.

Spinning to face her, Paul cocks an eyebrow at the way she bites her lip—worried, it seems, that she’d overstepped.

“I will, bud,” he promises despite himself, voice raspy.

(He’s gone before she can say anything else, ignoring the ache in his chest as he runs the opposite direction of the girl that now has him wrapped around her little finger.)

/

It hits her, suddenly—the ache, the need, the cold and shaking, the wrongness inside her.

(It had almost been gone, for a moment.)

Jake makes it over to them before she has time to process it, though, bright grin on his face as he throws his arms around her waist in a bear hug. “Bells! I’m so glad to see you.” He pulls back, a thoughtful expression on his face as he takes stock of her appearance, frowning at her haggard upkeep, the way her clothes hang off her body. “How are you?”

Bella grimaces, knowing how worried he’s been—how clear it must be that she’s fallen apart.

(And still not sure what happened to all her broken pieces.)

“I’m…getting better,” she settles on, knowing better than to lie to her best friend. “Working on it, anyway.”

He smiles, squeezes her hand gently. “You’re letting us be here for you—that’s a start.” A grin at Jess. “Jessica. Good to see you again.”

“You too, pretty boy—and since when did you start getting so jacked?” Her expression is impressed as she gestures to his biceps, on display in his grease-stained muscle tee. “First Paul, now this, and Leah looks like she could be an Olympian—I need whatever workout regimen you guys are on.”

Jake’s eyes narrow, smile curving down into a frown. “You saw Paul?”

Jessica nods. “Yeah, he rode along to show us how to get here. Why?”

He makes a face. “He’s just—bad news. If you can, you should avoid him; he’s part of our resident gang, and even before that, he’s always been a loose cannon.”

For some reason, the comment stings Bella, as though he’d insulted her personally; a little voice in the back of her head whispers that it’s not true, so, _so_ deeply not true.

A shiver runs through her, and she brushes aside the thought as they make their way to the garage, arms clutched tightly around her torso like she can force the hole inside of her to disappear.

She’s quiet, still; Jessica and Jake fight over the aux, switching back and forth between stations every few minutes, but it’s a playful rapport.

They don’t push, or urge her to do anything more than _be_ there with them.

(And it’s—a mark of how much they both love her, that they’re willing to hang out, despite barely knowing each other and having nothing in common but her, solely because they hope it’ll help her through whatever this darkness is.)

She moves into her familiar seat, handing Jake tools as he asks for them with a grin—it almost feels normal, even though she’s so far from herself.

They stick around for hours, popping frozen pizza in the oven for dinner; both girls are dumbfounded when Jacob consumes more than an entire pie himself and still rummages around for snacks afterward. At one point Billy calls out to his son in their tribal language, Jake replying in kind; Bella picks up on a word or two, from the little she knows from begging him to teach her over the years.

Jess gives her a tight hug when she drops her off back at home that night, after apologizing to Charlie for returning her so late, despite him looking nothing short of joyful that his daughter had spent the entire day with the curly haired girl and Jake.

“You get tomorrow to yourself, to recuperate from the human interaction today and yesterday,” Jess tells her, keys in hand as she leans against her car door. “But you still have to take care of yourself, and Monday we’re hanging out after school, no excuses.”

A ghost of a smile slips across Bella’s face. “Okay. Thank you.”

Keeping her promise to listen to the people who care about her, she climbs into the shower; turns the water as hot as she can stand.

(not close to the almost warmth she’d felt earlier, but something, taking deep breaths in the steam.)

(carefully brushes her hair for the first time in recent memory.)

For a beat—feels like she’s on her way to being better.

But the wrongness, the need—it washes back over her when she climbs into bed.

(less than before, maybe; the difference is too faint to be sure, but—)

( _something._ )

She tosses and turns, but finally is able to still enough to sleep; as she’s drifting away, she hears a howl.

(It sounds so near, and yet—it’s comforting, rather than inspiring fear.)

/

“What the hell was that, yesterday?”

Jared snorts as he shovels eggs into his mouth, eyes tired from his early morning patrol shift. “Good morning to you too, Leah. It’s six a.m.—isn’t it a little early for this much rage?”

“I wasn’t talking to you, moron.” She turns her burning gaze onto Paul, who scowls at her, turning his attention back to the book in hand. “I’m talking to our very own version of Hades himself, who acted insane when he saw Isabella Swan and her princess friend at the diner, yesterday.”

Sam rubs at his temples, looking world weary as he passes Leah a coffee, honey stirred in the way she likes, which she accepts with a smile.

“What happened, Paul? If things go wrong, I need you to tell me so that I can do damage control and tell the—”

“There was _nothing_ wrong,” Paul snarls, his wolf enraged at the implication that anything about his mate could be bad—that anything about him finding her could be a problem. He blows out a deep breath, trying to rein in the instincts. “Sorry,” he mutters, without meeting his alpha’s eyes. “The wolf.”

Sam’s brows pull together with confusion. “Please tell me what happened.

Paul crosses his arms, hating the way the confession makes him feel vulnerable.

(hating even more how he can’t stand to be vulnerable even with his brothers—his _pack_.)

(and Leah, who’s not technically a wolf, but—pack all the same.)

“She never opened her eyes, that night in the woods. So—I imprinted. Bella—” his voice is soft, for her name. “Bella is my imprint.”

Jared grins at the revelation. “No kidding? That’s amazing, man—I’m happy for you.”

Paul’s torn, because he’s thrilled—nothing has ever felt more right in his life.

(And yet, he can’t escape the feeling that she’d be better off without him; that the universe has doomed her, fating her to have him around.)

“So that’s what that looks like.” Leah shakes her head with a snort, raising an eyebrow at Sam. “How creepy. No wonder Emily took a while to warm up to you.”

He rolls his eyes, not deigning to respond. He strokes his chin with his thumb, frowning in thought. “Strange, though. The legends have always said it was rare—for all three of us to have imprinted…”

“Okay, no, you are not going to make this some kind of apocalyptic sign.” Leah huffs at him, snatching a piece of bacon off his plate. “You’re thinking like the council. As important as the legends are, they’re—anecdotal, and recorded by man. And man is flawed.”

“How does that explain away the fact that no pack has ever had more than a single member imprint, if that?”

“I can’t believe my best friend is such an idiot. How did I not throttle you when we were dating,” Leah mutters under her breath, knowing full well they can all hear her. She adjusts her hold on the mug to take a sip of her coffee, the sleeves of her sweater brushing its sides as she grips it with two hands. “Look at it logically. The legends we’re working with largely document events a hundred years ago or more—as in, a time period with no form of transportation beyond horses, no means of communication or large-scale relocation. You have to make eye contact in order for the imprint to take place; at that time, the only people who would’ve been candidates for imprinting were other members of the tribe.”

“Where are you going with this?” Jared questions.

Leah sighs. “Assuming your imprint is your soul mate, the odds of your soul mate being one of the very limited number of people in the tribe are very slim. In contrast, we now _have_ cars, planes, trains, interaction with many more people. So the way I see it, rather than it being a rare wolf having an imprint, it seems more likely that every wolf _has_ an imprint out there, many just never met theirs.”

The guys all look at her with disbelief.

“I think she’s right.” Emily smiles at them all as she enters the room, pressing a kiss to Sam’s cheek before sitting at the table beside Jared. “Think about it—I’m not from here, and neither is Bella. Were it not for transportation and modern levels of interaction with other communities, the only imprint who still would’ve come into contact with the pack is Kim.”

“Keeping with the one imprint per pack trend,” Paul murmurs with a nod.

Emily beams at him. “And congratulations, Paul. I can’t wait to meet her.”

The corners of his mouth turn upward in thanks. “Think I have to convince her to be in my life, first.”

“Can’t be hard. She was fucking around with a leech for a year,” Jared mumbles.

It’s not meant as antagonistic, more a statement of fact, but Paul bares his teeth anyway; likewise, Leah narrows her eyes at the youngest member of the back.

It’s Emily who speaks, though, tone still sweet as she turns a stoic expression on him. “Jared, honey, you’re family and I love you like my brother, but you come close to slut shaming in my home again and you’ll be cleaning the toilets with your toothbrush for the next year. Understood?”

Head down, he clears his throat, looking well-chastened. “Yes, Em. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. It won’t happen again.”

“Thank you.” Her smile reappears. “What’s Bella like, then?”

Leah frowns. “Not herself. She’s…I don’t know what they did to her, but the Cullens leaving really sent her spiraling. Charlie’s been more worried than I’ve ever seen him, and even when I saw her yesterday…” she shakes her head, struck by the wrongness of it.

Paul nods in agreement. “There’s something…odd, about it all. Even the night I found her in the woods. It’s better when I’m with her, the impact of the imprint probably, but—when I watch her from afar, there’s just…something off. The wolf knows something’s wrong.”

“We’ll figure it out,” Sam promises, voice authoritative. “We won’t let anything happen to her. She’s pack.”

The assurance, the acceptance from their alpha—it soothes Paul’s wolf, the incessant worry and longing that have been flaring up the last twenty-four hours.

(Even longer—subdued, but there, since that day in the dark.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lots of love! next update to come v soon 


	4. storm to weather

A few weeks later, she’s aimless; has finished her homework, doesn’t have the mental capacity to finish a book and doesn’t know what to do with herself while Jess is at work and Jake is helping his dad run errands.

Charlie will be home in an hour or so, and the part of her that has a wisp of memory of who she used to be murmurs that she could make him dinner.

(She used to love that, she thinks.)

She feels a bit better as soon as she has a task, a sense of purpose; and it’s—she’s always been the most _herself_ when taking care of the people she loves.

Which...maybe that’s part of why being with _him_ unraveled her so easily, why it feels like she lost herself long before she lost the Cullens.

(She’s always been a nurturer and caretaker at heart; capable, independent, having kept both herself and her mother afloat.)

(Being surrounded by vampires whom she could do nothing to help, who constantly made the very core of her being seem useless—)

It feels nice, to finally have something within her grasp, again; to feel like she has something to offer the people in her life.

And cooking specifically has always been soothing, made her feel in control.

Knowing there are vampires and god knows whatever else out there, that they can break her bones or kill her family in the blink of an eye and she’d be powerless to stop them; knowing the strength of creatures that walk alongside humans with them none the wiser. Knowledge she’ll have to live with for the rest of her life, without any sort of defense—

(Well, right now, she can appreciate feeling like her life is in her hands more than ever.)

For whatever reason, she finds herself making much more than usual; she can’t explain it, the impulse to prepare such an excessively large portion, but an hour later she’s sipping on hot tea while she waits for the two pans of lasagna to cool.

And then before she can stop herself she’s folding foil over the pan’s edges and carrying it out to her truck.

It’s quiet as she drives, trying not to look at the fucked up cavity where her radio used to be, the memory of scratching it out making her fingers hurt sympathetically.

Bella rolls down the windows despite the drizzle, enjoying the sensation of the raindrops against her skin, their patter against the pavement, trees swaying.

She’s drawn to La Push; can’t help it, is over the town line without a second thought. It’s odd, the way her body is moving without conscious thought. She intends to stop at the diner, but—

(Something makes her keep going.)

She finds herself in front of a tiny house not far from the Blacks’ place, an old but seemingly well maintained truck in the drive.

It’s—she feels crazy, stalking up to the door with the lasagna in hand. Every rational cell in her body is screaming to turn back, that she has no idea where she is or who lives here; but her mind in screaming that this is where she’s supposed to be,

She knocks, internally cringing even as she does so.

And then the door opens, and he’s all she can see.

Paul raises his eyebrows, soft expression shocked. “What are you doing here?”  
Cheeks burning with blush, Bella looks down at her shoes, feet fidgeting within. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to intrude—”

“Hey, no, that’s not what I meant, bud,” Paul soothes, reaching out a hand to gently touch her shoulder.

As soon as his skin is on hers, the world stops; she’s centered, grounded, more herself than she’s been since the last time she saw him.

He’s not smiling, exactly, but she can see it in his eyes—despite not knowing him at all, knows the crinkles above his cheeks mean he’s happy. “I just wasn’t sure if there was something you needed.”

“Oh.” Bella bites her lip. “I—I just brought you this.” She holds up the covered pan awkwardly. “It’s a lasagna. I, um, just wanted to drop it off to thank you, for—in the woods.” She wrings her hands as soon as he’s taken the pan. “I don’t know what would’ve happened if you hadn’t found me. And just…” she trails off, stopping herself from admitting how safe he’d made her feel. “Yeah. I just wanted to say thank you, and I figured—food never goes amiss. Especially if you eat half as much as Jake.”

A shadow crosses his face at the mention her best friend, which she doesn’t quite understand, but then his lips curve upward into a smile. “Thank you.” He tilts his head to the house. “I should get this in the fridge—do you want to come in?”

Bella nods before she can stop herself, briefly wondering if it’s smart to go inside alone with someone who’s basically a stranger.

(but then, she never has had much of an instinct for self-preservation.)

And he’s friends with Leah, and he saved her—it seems fair to trust him.

It’s a bit messy, but not nearly as bad as Jake’s room; there are books strewn around, a basket of folded laundry on the couch.

She watches Paul—muscles prominent, a vein bulging on each bicep in a way that holds her attention more than she’d like to admit.

He moves to the kitchen, which is the cleanest part of the whole place; before putting the lasagna in the fridge he cuts out a piece, plopping it on a paper plate and digging in without microwaving it. A moan, as he tastes the first bite. “This is delicious.” After a beat of silence, he turns to her and admits, “I barely ever have home cooked meals, except when my best friend’s fiancée takes pity on me.”

Bella smiles bashfully. “Well, I cook a lot for my dad and I, and I enjoy it, so—feel free to stop by for a plate sometime.”

“I’d like that.”

His eyes smolder when they meet hers, and it’s—electric.

After a few minutes he sighs, lacing up black sneakers before getting to his feet. “I hate to kick you out, but I actually have to get going; I have a shift about to start.”

“Oh! Of course, I’m sorry.” She flushes again as she stands, arms crossed tight against her chest. “Where do you work?”

“I do construction with Sam Uley’s company during the day, and I bartend nights at the bar a town over.”

“Oh, wow! You really bust your ass, then. I’m impressed.” Tucking a stray curl behind her ear, Bella approaches the door. “I’ll get out of your hair, then. But—it was nice talking to you. And thank you, again.”

The corner of Paul’s mouth twitches upward, and—

(it’s crooked, like Edward’s smile, and yet the thought of him doesn’t hurt, in this moment.)

“Thank _you,_ for the food.” He hesitates, like he’s unsure of himself—then steps forward like he’s decided to go for it. “We’re having a bonfire this weekend, on the cliffs. It’ll be lowkey—food, beers, chill people. You should come—you could bring your friend, if you want.” His lip curls. “I’d say bring Jake, but he’d not exactly my biggest fan—or Sam and Jared’s for that matter. But Leah will be there, too.”

Bella’s eyes go wide with surprise; she’d been so certain that her presence was unwelcome, and here he is inviting her to hang out with him and his friends.

It’s an intimidating thought, the idea of so many unfamiliar people, of attempting to keep it together around strangers the entire night without them, too, believing she’s crazy.

(But as terrifying as it feels—maybe it’s what she needs.)

She shocks both of them by agreeing. “I—I’d like that.”

Paul’s answering grin sends a shiver down her spine. “I’ll see you then.”

/

She’s—frazzled, after; can’t stop replaying the interaction in her mind.

(It’s only after she’s left that she realizes she’d been warm again, for just a moment.)

And it’s not till she’s almost home that she realizes she’s almost turned on at the thought of him, and immediately breaks in her truck, whispering, _“oh, fuck,”_ to herself.

(Because—she has no idea what she’s feeling, right now, it’s so unlike anything else she’s ever experienced.)

Something about being around Paul just feels—different.

So instead of heading home, she turns closer to town, makes her way to Jessica’s house with the hope that her best friend will distract her from her own thoughts.

She goes in without knocking, because her friend as well as her parents have all been getting onto her about making herself at home.

Making her way inside, she grabs a glass of water before hurrying upstairs, turning Jess’s doorknob with no preamble. “Jess, I have to—”

She comes to a stop at the sight of her best friend half undressed with someone beneath her mid-moan.

At the sound of her voice, Jess swivels around, seeming surprised but not bothered by her presence. “Bella? I didn’t know you were coming over today.” She moves to grab a shirt to throw on over her bright blue lacy bra.

“Oh, god, I’m so sorry,” Bella squeaks, unsure of whether it would make things more awkward to run away or stay. “I didn’t know you had company, I can—”

“Bella, seriously, it’s fine,” Leah’s voice promises, and then she’s sitting up from beneath Jess, pulling her own shirt on. She laughs gleefully at the shock on Bella’s face.

Bella opens and closes her mouth. “I—you—you two are hooking up?”

“Dating,” Leah corrects, an arm around Jess’s shoulders.

Jess nods, with a brilliant smile like Bella hasn’t seen in ages

(And it’s—everything has been about trying to bring her back to life, lately, so it’s so _relieving_ to see her friend have something for herself, to see that she’s still bright, sunshine happiness.)

“Is it—were you trying to keep it a secret? Because I can definitely keep quiet if you don’t anyone to know, I didn’t mean to—step in and find out before you were ready.”

Jessica snorts, rolling her eyes fondly. “First of all, come sit down, you don’t need to just stand there in the doorway like a creep. Second of all, we’re not trying to keep it a secret, it’s just new—I was planning on telling you when we hung out after school tomorrow.”

Bella hums, taking a seat on the other side of the bed facing them; they’re so natural together, already, Jess aimlessly stroking the back of Leah’s hand on her shoulder with her thumb. It’s—they’re so clearly at _ease_ , so comfortable in each other’s presence.

(And it strikes her that she never felt that way with Edward—she wasn’t scared of him, sure, but she always felt on edge, such a need to be her best self to attempt to impress him and somehow be enough.)

So draining, all the time, being perpetually _on_ and wrapped up in him.

(Maybe…maybe that was never what love was supposed to be; maybe it should look like this, relaxed against their side.)

She tilts her head thoughtfully at them. “How did you two even get together? You didn’t seem to like Jess much at the diner, Lee.”

Leah raises an eyebrow, looking amused. “That was me flirting, hon. You don’t pick up on subtleties, do you?”

“Not at all,” Jess informs her, grinning at the way Bella blinks with confusion. “You should’ve seen her first week at school—every single straight guy on campus hit on her and she didn’t even notice until they started explicitly asking her to Homecoming.”

Bella sighs, pulling her hair up into a loose bun. “Yeah, yeah, I’m bad at being a person, I don’t know what you want me to tell you. I can’t help it—believe me, I’ve tried.” She brightens. “Although this means you definitely have to come with me to the bonfire Friday.”

Jess shrugs, but Leah grins predatorially, like she knows something.

(Bella tries not to wonder why her friend seems so anticipatory.)

/

Leah’s midway through a shift at the diner, rolling her eyes at the table of Seth and his friends—her brother is lucky she loves the hell out of him, because she’s hungover and they’re making a _lot_ of noise.

The doorbell chimes and she waves to the pack as they come in, taking a seat at their usual booth; she goes to let Eli, their current chef, know to start on their inhuman portions of food, grabbing their cokes before heading out to meet them.

“Thanks, Leelee,” Sam smiles as she sets the drinks on their table. “You doing okay?”

“More than okay,” Jared grins, waggling his eyebrows at her good-naturedly. “I can scent fancy perfume on you—how _is_ Jessica?”

Leah rolls her eyes, but smiles. “She’s great, thanks. Speaking of!” She turns to Paul, expectant. “What did you _do_?”

His eyes narrow. “I didn’t do anything.”

“Oh, no, I don’t believe that.” Smirking at him, Leah cocks an eyebrow. “A certain someone interrupted my date yesterday looking _quite_ flushed, and she was quick to mention the bonfire. Wonder where she got the invite.”

Paul’s expression remains stoic, but pride flares in his chest, knowing his imprint was as affected by their interaction as he was—hopefully is as desperate to see him again as he is her.

“She showed up at his house—the imprint pull called her there,” Jared gossips with a delighted smile, and Paul scowls at their mental link.

“All of your wolf shit is _very_ weird, you get that right?” Leah meets each of their gaze, cackling at their territorial growls. “You can’t tell me I’m wrong.”

“Moving on,” Sam declares, trying to avoid any of them tackling each other. “Paul, Leah, have any of you made any headway in figuring out what’s up with Bella?”

They both frown, and Paul’s hackles rise, both the man and wolf distressed at his mate’s unwell state. “No,” he admits, voice gruff, not meeting any of their eyes. “I’ve been standing guard outside her house a lot, while she sleeps, and it seems like it’s worst at night, though. Not just that, but—in her room. I haven’t gone super near, though, because I’m not a fucking stalker, and also because there’s a lingering leech scent.”

Leah nods, lost in thought. “Yeah, it’s—weird. Sometimes she seems okay; the day she saw Paul, she’d come straight from the rez and seemed almost her old self again. But the week before that when I saw her first thing in the morning, she was sweating and shaky and just…distracted.”

“PTSD or something, do you think?” Jared wonders aloud.

(After his reprimand from Emily he’d pulled a 180, firmly devoted to his brother’s mate and her wellbeing.)

Sam shakes his head, brows pulled together. “No. I mean, I’m sure there’s a bit, especially from the day in the woods, but this…this is something different. The headaches and vomiting she’s having at home, the insomnia and sweating….”

Paul sucks in a breath, head dropping to his hands. “Oh. Fuck. I hadn’t—I don’t see them in action, most of the time, so I didn’t even—god, it feels so obvious. And the smell—”

“Words, Paul,” Leah commands. “What did you just figure out?”

“Withdrawal. Bella’s going through withdrawal.” His tongue pushes at his cheek with irritation, and he shakes his head. “I can’t believe I didn’t figure it out sooner. This is— _just_ like my dad, when he got cut off.”

“What do you mean? We would know if Bella had been taking something,” Jared says.

“No, it’s—” Paul takes a deep breath, trying to find the words and not explode with frustration at the situation; the urge to set the world on fire for harming the other half of his heart. “The leech. His _scent_ —it must have some sort of addictive property, or something, as like a means of drawing in prey, debilitating them if they try to run away. It makes sense, on a basic predatory level. That’s why she gets worse every time she goes home—his scent lingering, so it’s like she’s relapsing just enough to fuck her up all over again when she moves, and why she starts to come out of it the longer she’s away.”

Leah grimaces. “That actually makes sense. None of us ever understood it—she was so not herself, their entire relationship; she so easily dropped Jake and I, which…it was just unlike her, you know? Even if she didn’t want to hang out with someone, she’s a people pleaser, so just disappearing from our lives…it never seemed to make sense. And Jess told me once she said it felt _physical_ , like she emotionally was over him but her literal body couldn’t take it.”

“What kind of _monsters_ —” Jared growls, but Sam holds up a hand to stop him.

“I don’t even think they’re aware. Not that that makes it okay, because impact matters more than intent, but—no human has ever had such prolonged exposure before, you know?” The alpha shrugs with disbelief, attempting to quell his own righteous anger. “This is—dangerous, for all of them to be unaware of. We need to find a way to contact them, so they can be more cautious.” He turns to Paul. “It explains why she seems to become herself around you, though; the imprint overrides all other supernatural forces.”

Paul tilts his head questioningly. “You think me being around can help her recover more quickly?”

“Like you need the excuse,” Leah mutters, tone teasing.

“I think it’s worth a try,” Sam says, ignoring her.

Paul’s on his feet immediately, ready to phase and sit outside Bella’s window all day for the rest of his life if it will help, and it’s—

It’s not concrete; he has no idea how much it’ll help, if this is even a foolproof solution.

(But it’s a _start_.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lots of love! next update to come v soon 


	5. it's delicate

“Maybe I shouldn’t go,” Bella whispers to herself, pulling the knit sweater she has on tighter around her, knees to her chest where she sits on the bed.

It’s half an hour before Paul’d said to come to the bonfire, and while she’s desperate to see him again—

(The fact that she wants to be around him so badly scares her.)

The sound of the front door opening makes its way to her ears, and her brows draw together with confusion. “Dad? Why are you off so early?”

When he doesn’t reply, her heart rate begins to rise, and she’s reaching for her pepper spray and just hoping it’s a human burglar and not a vampire and her bedroom door swings open—

And Leah’s standing there with one eyebrow raised, looking almost amused by the sight of Bella ready to attack her. “Seriously? Babe, we’ve got to get you a baseball bat to keep next to your bed, or something.”

“To be fair, usually intruders would only come at night, when my father with many guns is here to handle them, so it’s a nonissue.” She crosses her arms, returning to her seat on the bed. “What are you doing here?”

“Jess and I both figured you would try to bail at the last minute so we came to drag you there.”

Bella scowls, because she’s not wrong; pulls the sleeves of her sweater down further to cover her hands. “I just don’t know that I should—”

“Oh, shut the hell up and change out of your pajama pants. Jess is waiting in the car.”

Glaring at her, Bella reluctantly does just that, knowing to argue would be useless.

(As much as she hates it in this moment, the reality is her friends won’t be dissuaded because they really do want what’s best for her.)

She changes into jeans and slides her feet into flip flops. Anyone who doesn’t know her as well might argue for her to wear boots, but Leah’s long acquainted with her distaste for closed toed shoes, impractical as it is in such a snowy state.

Her nerves ramp up the whole ride there, though Jess does her best to soothe the visible anxiety on her best friend’s face. At one point, she sighs, and plugs in the aux to play Bella’s favorite band (which she hates)—Bella can’t help but smile despite herself, despite the ache in her head.

It’s alt, so Leah sings along at full volume, which earns an eyeroll from her girlfriend even as she squeezes her hand over the center console.

Jess has to half-drag her out of the car when they get there, and she can physically feel the panic rising in her chest, heart rate rapid, pounding so hard her chest moves, and breathing shallow and—

And then just as suddenly, it fades; not completely, but the sharp edges are blunted, just enough for her to talk herself down, rationalizing until she feels like herself again.

She’s still a little nervous, so many unfamiliar faces seated on the logs around the small fire already lit where they’re all set up on the beach, but it’s bearable, and as soon as her gaze lands on Paul, all of her concerns seem like non-issues.

“Well look what the dog dragged in,” an unfamiliar guy calls out to Leah.

“I’m really the only one who _isn’t_ what the dog dragged in, if we’re being honest,” Leah fires back, causing both Paul, the other guy, and both of the unfamiliar girls present to burst out laughing, while Bella and Jess share raised eyebrows of confusion.

Leah takes pity on them as they draw closer. “Jess, Bella, this is Sam and my cousin, Emily. She’s also his fiancée, but I live in a Leah-centric universe, so that’s less important.”

Sam rolls his eyes, but smiles at both of them, his arms around Emily where she sits comfortably in the sand at his feet. “Good to see you again, Bella. Jessica, it’s nice to finally meet you—I respect anyone who can keep Leah in line.”

“All the gods know you never could,” Leah razzes him, and it should be awkward, for everyone involved, but there’s just—such love, such strong trust, such understanding from all four of them, that nothing about it feels the slightest bit tense.

Emily beams at them, getting to her feet to hug both newcomers in greeting. “I’m so glad you’re here! I’ve been desperately in need of more friends, I need company when they’re all off building houses and all. You have to come over for girls night sometime soon.”

“Sounds good to me,” Jess grins, looking at home as she takes a seat on one of the empty logs. Leah goes to the cooler on the tailgate of Paul’s truck and pulls out a couple of sodas and a Gatorade, handing one Coke to Bella and the energy drink to Jess before popping the other can open herself, before sinking down beside her girlfriend.

Getting to his feet, Paul motions to where he’d been sitting; he’s not quite smiling, but—somehow she knows he is internally “Here, sit down, Bella, I’m gonna grab a plate. You want anything to eat?”

“Oh, I—” Jess gives her the look, reminding her about their conversation about Bella needing to take better care of herself, and she grimaces in apology. “Yes, that would be great, thank you.”

(Which is good, because unbeknownst to her, Paul’s wolf was internally howling with unrest, demanding his mate be fed, knowing she wasn’t okay.)

(He wouldn’t have been able to react very well if she’d refused, unable to focus on anything else beyond her well-being.)

“I’m Jared, by the way,” the guy who’d joked with Leah grins at Bella and Jess, mischief in his eyes. “Since these heathens are too rude to introduce me.”

“He pretends to be a pain but he’s actually harmless,” the girl beside him deadpans, smirking when her boyfriend sticks his tongue out at her. “I’m Kim.”

(Jared smooths back a lock of hair and kisses her moments alter, unable to keep from showing his affection for long.)

“I love your earrings, Emily,” Jessica compliments, captivated by the patterns amidst the dangling diamond shaped pieces.

“Thank you! Sue actually made them for me..”

Leah snorts. “Yeah, she loves beading and is glad there’s finally someone around who’ll wear jewelry now that Em moved down from the Makah rez.”

A few minutes later, Jared whips out a bag of marshmallows with a grin; Sam rolls his eyes but finds sticks to use as skewers for them all to make s’mores.

“And here I thought I’d missed the window to be a boy scout,” Paul mutters to Bella, drawing laughs from her as well as the two other guys.

(It’s not till later that night that she remembers humans shouldn’t be able to hear speech that quiet; but she thinks nothing of it, then.)

He cracks jokes and makes interesting comments all night, not seeming bothered by Bella’s occasional bouts of silence when her social battery needs a few minutes to recharge.

Jess and Leah are godsends, too, noticing whenever she gets overwhelmed by it all and monopolizing the conversation, climbing onto the space beside her acting like they want to bug her when it’s really for her benefit.

She catches Sam watching her, a couple times. At first she’s terrified he’s into her, that he’ll try to make a move and she’ll be in the horribly uncomfortable position of hoping he takes no for an answer and being the one to tell Emily her forever has other plans—but all it takes is a moment to realize it’s not that.

It’s more of a worried look; a wary kind of concern she doesn’t understand.

He clearly feels responsible for them all—though there’s little difference in their ages, he has the tired eyes that come from taking care of others and always forgetting to take care of yourself.

(It’s familiar to her, after a lifetime of raising her own mother.)

And her breath catches in her throat because—that was such a large part of her.

And yet she didn’t even notice it disappear.

(How does she keep losing so many pieces of herself? Where did they go?)

(How did she get here?)

“You okay?”

She jolts back into the present, looking up to see Paul reaching a hand out to her—hesitating, like he wants to touch her shoulder but not if the contact is unwelcome.

“Yeah, sorry, I—just lost in thought.” She forces a smile, and Paul gives her a look, like he can tell it’s not genuine, but doesn’t push.

He begins shrugging off the worn hoodie he has on, and Bella’s eyes go wide at the tight t-shirt underneath’s grip on his skin.

She cocks her head in confusion when he hands the soft sweatshirt over to her. “Why—”

“You’re too cold, you need to warm up,” he says gruffly, not a command but an assessment of her legitimate physical need.

Bella opens her mouth to disagree, but—

She’s freezing, actually. She hadn’t noticed.

Now that he’s mentioned it, though, she hurriedly pulls the hoodie over her head with a whisper of thanks, noticing as she does so that her nails have begun to turn blue from the cold.

Eventually, Paul starts yawning and she frowns at him. “You should go home and get some rest—I barely know you and I already know you work too much.”

His lips curve upward. “Yeah, well, gotta keep the lights on somehow.” After a moment, he raises his eyebrows, holding out one hand. “How about you let me give you my number, and then you can get to know me better and yell at me about it a little bit more?”

Bella flushes profusely, nodding before she can stop herself as she none too gently shoves her phone into his hand.

He looks amused by her haste as he keys in his contact info, sending himself a text with her name so he has her number too before handing it back, both of them getting to their feet. “I’m really glad you came out tonight, bud. Thanks for putting up with these knuckleheads.”

“I had a good time,” she smiles back, gaze darting around to make sure her friends are already walking back to the car and can’t see the way her skin is blushing all the way down to her chest.

(This, right now—she feels more alive than she has in months.)

“Oh, here—” she grips the hem of the hoodie, moving to take it off, but Paul’s hand puts two gentle fingers on the back of her wrist to still her hand, the heat of his skin searing through, bone deep.

“Keep it. Looks better on you anyways—and I have a feeling you could use a little extra warmth.”

After they’re gone, Kim raises an eyebrow at Paul. “Giving her your clothes already? Bold.”

“It marks her as his—calms down the wolf’s distress about her safety, when she’s not fully his yet.” Jared’s expression is serious, morphing into something more goofy and seductive as he leans to wrap his arms around her from behind. “The wolf is territorial—you should know.”

She shrieks and bursts into giggles as he presses a lighthearted kiss to her neck. “Jared, we’re in public!”

“Like that’s ever stopped you before,” Paul mutters with an eye roll. “And it was partially for the wolf, but also I’m hoping my scent might help with her nightmares. Get the imprint to subdue the relapse-type cycle that’s been hitting her—even just for a little while.”

His expression is stoic, but—they’re brothers.

(They know when one of their own is hurting.)

“We’re going to get through this, Paul,” Sam promises, clapping a hand on his shoulder. “We’ll find a way to help heal Bella.”

Paul gives a single nod, eyes narrowed. “Now if we can just take out this redheaded leech.”

/

The next morning, Bella wakes up feeling—clear.

It’s the best she’s felt after sleeping in months.

And it’s not exactly morning, she’d slept in so late—it’s after one in the afternoon.

(She _actually_ slept.)

She’s still wearing Paul’s sweatshirt, and she should change, but—

It’s so soft, and something about it just makes her feel _safe_ , despite all the insanity and supernatural horror in the world.

(So she keeps it on, changing into leggings beneath it in the hopes of appearing to be a semi-functional human.)

She makes her way downstairs, and catches Charlie staring at her with wide eyes, can of beer frozen halfway to his mouth.

“What?” she demands, making a face as she tugs her hair into a ponytail to get it off her neck. “Do I have something on my face?”

“No, it’s—it’s nothing.” Her father clears his throat, taking a swig of his beer that’s meant to be casual but is entirely unconvincing.

“What? Just tell me.”

He shakes his head; when she crosses her arms and stares him down, making it clear she’s not going to back off, he let out a sigh, setting his drink on the side table. “Just haven’t seen that in a while.”

“What, my pajama shirt? I wear this all the time, it’s form—”

“No, not—not the shirt.” Charlie rubs at his jaw before meeting her eyes. “You humming in the morning.” A beat of silence, and softly, he adds, “Smiling.”

She sucks in a breath of surprise, but—he’s not wrong. “Sorry.”

Her father’s eyes go wide, and he hurries to sit up straighter. “No, you don’t need to apologize! It’s just good to see, is all.”

Bella nods before heading into the kitchen to grab herself a coffee. She joins Charlie on the couch, pulling a quilt Sue’d knitted them for Christmas years ago over her lap. “Ball game today?”

“Yep, a few of ‘em. But if you want to watch something else you can.”

She shakes her head, smiling nervously. “No, I wanted to watch with you—it’s been too long.”

“It has. That sounds perfect, Bells. You want me to order a pizza later, or Chinese or something?”

“Egg drop soup and spring rolls sounds pretty awesome right now,” she admits hesitantly

After a few minutes, she scooches closer to him, leaning her head on his shoulder while they watch the first inning.

(It’s the easiest, best day; it’s not until she gets off the couch to go to bed that night that she realizes how easy it is to _breathe_.)

/

They’d planned for him to come over for dinner today, and he’d texted this morning to confirm they were still on, and yet—she’s still so happily surprised when Paul shows up for dinner that night.

“Hi,” she says shyly, tucking her hair behind her ears to busy her hands. “Thanks for coming.”

“Hey you.” He smirks, and the way his gaze meets hers is—serotonin, straight to the bloodstream. “Don’t thank me, you’re the one who cooked.”

She blushes as she holds the door open to let him inside. “Oh, it’s nothing. I always do anyway.”

They make their way to the table, and they’re quiet for a moment as she portions food onto both of their plates.

Paul clears his throat. “You mind if I put on music? I just get antsy when it’s silent.”

Bella’s stomach drops, and she starts to instinctively refuse, because for the last few months the sound of music has been excruciating to endure.

But then she hesitates because in this moment—

(Music sounds nice, actually.)

So she nods nervously; moments later, there’s a mild rock song softly emanating from his phone.

“You listen to alternative?” she asks curiously.

“Yep. Leah’s the only one that appreciates it,” he rolls his eyes. “Sam and Jared both just like country, which I don’t mind either. You?”

“I…I haven’t been listening to much, lately,” Bella admits, looking down at her plate. “Been in a rough headspace. But I used to listen to a little bit of everything, as long as the lyrics make me feel something.”

“So no EDM?” he teases.

The joke draws a faint semblance of a laugh out of her—more humor than she’s shown in ages.

“This is awesome, by the way,” he mumbles through a bite, covering his mouth as he does so she doesn’t see the half-chewed food in his mouth. After he swallows, he watches her; just stares, like he’s trying to memorize every line of her face. “So, it’s just you and your dad here, right?”

“Yeah,” she nods, taking a sip of her glass of tea. “We—we haven’t been as close, lately, because I’ve been…not quite myself. As you know,” she adds quietly, thinking it best to acknowledge that he’s already seen her at her worst. “But he’s probably the person I trust most in the world. No matter what I do, I know he’d always walk through fire for me, as much as I hope he never has to. He’s the best person I’ve ever met.” Her heart swells at the thought of her father, her rock through the last few months despite her own unraveling. “What about you?”

“No family. Pops died a few years back, and my mom left when I was a kid.” He’s long since become unfazed by relaying the bare bones of his history.

He braces for her reaction, because as casual as it is for him, as much as he likes to joke about his trauma, most people don’t react as positively.

But where most people would flinch, or give him pity and sympathy he doesn’t want, his mate just nods, like she’s filing the information away in her brain; like it's a puzzle piece that makes who he is make just a little more sense.

He cocks his head at her, and the wolf urges him to lean forward, desperate to hold her, taste her, tell her what she is to him.

Instead, he clears his throat as he leans back in his chair, desperate to keep her talking so the wolf will simmer down. “What do you like to do?”

Bella’s cheeks warm, and she searches for words. “I—I read, sometimes. Mostly classics; the Brontes, Shakespeare. I…” she bites her lip, scrambling for more.

(She—she used to have hobbies, didn’t she?)

(When did she stop having a life of her own?)

“I…I used to hate watch a lot of reality tv; my mom loved it, so I got hooked even though I detest it all. She and I were really close, before I moved here.” She swallows heavily, not meeting Paul’s eyes. “I don’t know. I guess I don’t do much.”

“Hey, that’s okay. That means you have all the time of the world for when you _do_ find your passion. Or to work on projects.” His voice is gentle, despite how deep and gruff it is inherently. “And there’s always room for change.”

She sets her fork on the table, smile wistful. “That’d be nice, maybe. I could probably use a lot of change in my life.”

“Then let’s make it happen. You make a list of things you want to try, any projects you want to do, we’ll do them all.”

“I’d like that,” she smiles. She starts to get to her feet to take the dishes to the sink, but Paul scowls at her.

“No way—you cooked, I’ll clean.”

And it’s—takes her aback, that he’d offer; she hops up onto the counter with a dish towel, drying as Paul scrubs his way through the day’s dishes, smiling while she watches him work.

He sings under his breath—not well, voice cracking and off key, but so clearly relaxed and unapologetically himself.

He passes her another plate with a wink, warm skin brushing her own, and—

(She could get used to this.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi friends, so sorry this came less soon than I anticipated—I got a new job + have had lots of personal things going on but I am back! and adjusted! have plotted v thoroughly for the next few chapters so they should be coming quickly (:
> 
> thank you for all of your reviews, they bring me such joy. I’m so excited to keep working through this story with y’all! Lots of love


	6. in silent screams and wildest dreams

Bella’s hesitant as she knocks on the door; knows it’s the right address, and the flowers and welcome mat on the front porch are so _homey_ and inviting it couldn’t be maintained by anyone but Emily, and yet even still is rocking back and forth on her heels.

The door swings open softly and Emily’s beaming at her, immediately tugging her into a hug. “Hello! How are you, Bella?”

“Oh, I’m—doing okay.” Bella forces an awkward half smile, but it feels just a little less fake in Emily’s presence. “Thanks for having me.”

“Of course! You’re always welcome here. And Paul and Leah have both been raving about you so much, I knew we had to hang out.”

The comment makes Bella unable to help but imagine how it happened, as she has been; Leah’s one of her best friends, but she hasn’t gotten up the nerve to ask about how everything went down—especially not when she wasn’t around to help Leah through it.

Emily catches her furrowed brow and gives a knowing look. “You’re wondering about the love triangle drama.”

“I—yeah,” Bella admits, cheeks red with embarrassment. “But you don’t have to tell me anything, I don’t want to make you uncomfortable—”

“Oh hush, it’s fine,” Emily waves her concerns away with a laugh. “First of all, there’s no drama, and no triangle. Sam and Leah love each other, always have, but they realized they weren’t _in love_ long before I came onto the scene. They broke up, but didn’t make any sort of public announcement because they didn’t feel the need to and were still best friends.” Emily smirks, waggling her eyebrows. “Not to mention they were still hooking up, and it was easier if people just thought they were going on dates.”

Bella attempts to clamp a hand over her mouth as she cracks up laughing, fanning herself for a beat. “You seem…very unbothered by that.”

Emily rolls her eyes. “Why would I be? They’re my two favorite people on the planet, I’m glad they weren’t alone before I got here. And I know they both love me and would never do anything that would hurt me now. It’s honestly better this way, because there’s no one I trust more than Leah—I’ve never had to feel a single bit of jealousy or worry, because I know that even if she HAD still had feelings for him she would’ve come to me first anyway.” She makes a face. “Not that you’d know it if you heard the tales that go around, because everyone around here loves to gossip and the idea of something interesting and dramatic happening.”

“Forks is the same way,” Bella grimaces. “A few months ago, when—” her chest tightens at the thought of him, and she winces as her head begins to pound. “I just mean, there were a lot of rumors, recently. I tried to tune most of it out, because the things they come up with are…ridiculous.”

(Though nowhere near as ridiculous as the truth.)

Emily squeezes her in a gentle hug. “I know a little something about moving on when your whole world has been flipped on its axis. Come over here whenever, okay?”

“Thanks.” Bella reaches to lay her hand on Emily’s arm, feeling so—loved, so welcome.

(It’s similar to the way things had been with Alice, but—different.)

(And as much as she’s always loved Alice, this feels more genuine, somehow. There’s nothing being asked in return—Emily doesn’t want to change her, make her into a pet or something that she’s not.)

“It’s cool to actually see you in the flesh; Leah always talked about you when we were younger, but it seems like you always came down right when I left for Arizona.”

The older woman grins. “Yeah, it’s definitely nice to finally put a face to the name. And I hear you like to cook, too! I love Kim and Sam to death but neither of them would survive on their own, they’re so hopeless in the kitchen, so I’m glad to have you around.”

“Happy to be of service,” Bella shrugs, happy to feel useful.

(And it’s a small thing, but—it feels like she’s finding herself again.)

(It’s a start.)

/

Paul levels her with a look when they sit down at a café in Forks. “So. Did you finish your list?”

Bella nods, tucking her hair behind both ears nervously. She brought it, but she’d been too nervous to bring it up herself—worried he hadn’t really meant what he offered. She reaches into the backpack at her foot and takes out the paper covered in her scrawl, handing it over without meeting his eyes, too nervous to see his reaction.

“Redoing your room—that could be fun, I haven’t painted in a while. Get a new stack of books, go to a ball game with your dad, go kayaking, tour some nearby colleges…” he continues on reading silently till his eyebrows shoot upward. “Cliff jumping? Motorcycles? Rock climbing and ziplining? Are you an adrenaline junkie or something?”

Bella bursts out laughing. “No, I just—stuff like that makes me feel like I’m taking back my agency. In control of my own life, and all that.” Her eyes go far away. “My—my friend used to be really worried about my safety, all the time. I could never do anything where I might get hurt, because he—well, anyway. I just haven’t gotten to do anything reckless, in a while. I miss just—being goofy and having fun, and I have lost time to make up for.”

She wonders if Paul’s cold, for a moment—he’s trembling, body visibly shaking as he doesn’t meet her eyes. “Paul? Are you okay?”

He blows out a deep breath slowly, the shuddering slowing to a stop, before raising his gaze to hers. “I’m okay, sorry. Just lost in thought. But if it’s what you want, I’m on board.” His lips turn upward. “The guys and I cliff dive all the time, so we can check that off first, and kayaking will be easy too. The bikes seem like they’d be more up Jake’s alley.”

“Definitely,” Bella agrees, expression fond at the thought. “Not to mention he’d love nothing more than to do something both our dads would disapprove of so thoroughly.”

Snorting, Paul rolls his eyes, though not antagonistically. “Sounds about right.”

/

Jake’s oddly quiet when she’s over a couple weeks later, grinding through a trig assignment while he works on the Rabbit.

“Everything okay?” She asks carefully, watching his body language as she does.

He tenses a bit, then sighs, relenting—he’s gonna cave and tell her what’s wrong, then. “I heard you went to the bonfire a few weeks ago. With Sam Uley.”

Bella’s eyebrows jump up her face. “You _heard_?”

“Small town,” Jake shrugs. “You know.”

“I guess. And yeah, I did, Paul invited me. I know you don’t like him, but—he’s been really great. I...we’re friends now, I think.”

Friends doesn’t quite cover the strange chaos of emotions thoughts of Paul stir up, but—she’s not telling Jake about the rest until she figures out what it means herself.

He snorts, tone bitter. “Friends. Sure. I don’t think Paul Lahote’s ever had a friend in his life—except Sam, and thats just because they grew up together.”

“What, so your way of convincing me he’s not a good guy is to be an ass?” Bella snaps, clutching at her pencil tightly. “Real persuasive, Jake.”

“Aw, come on, Bells, that came out harsher than I meant it to.” He lets out a deep breath, putting down the wrench in hand before speaking again. “It’s just—they’re up to something, no one knows what. And the way they all beefed up, so suddenly, it’s got to be steroids or drugs or something. Which was annoying, but—now they’ve gotten to Embry.” He grinds his teeth with frustration. “I don’t want him getting hurt because of whatever they’re mixed up in. And—I miss my friend.”

Her heart shatters at the pain on her beat friend’s face, and she’s at his side in an instant, hugging him despite the grease coating his clothes. “Oh, Jake, I’m so sorry.”

He shrugs, but she can feel the tension in his body lessen as she hugs him. “It is what it is. I’m just—tired of losing people.”

He doesn’t meet her eyes as he says it, and it hits her—she’s part of the reason this hurts so bad.

(He’s been abandoned by a friend before.)

She swallows heavily, knows her hands are shaking. “Jake, I—I know I messed up, before. I don’t know what’s wrong with me, I can’t—can’t believe I did a lot of the things I did. But I promise, it won’t happen again. No matter who I’m friends with, no matter who I date—you’ll always be my best friend, you know?”

Jake smiles back with a nod, and it’s—the air feels lighter, after having the hard conversation.

(More like _them_ , the friendship that’s withstood loss and leaving and life.)

“You been working with those tribal language flashcards I made you?” he asks, closing the hood of the car.

She nods hurriedly. “Yes, I think I’m pretty solid with all of them. I’m gonna make Leah practice the verbs with me some more this weekend.”

“You know you really don’t have to—”

Bella makes to elbow him in the gut. “Shut up, you can’t talk me out of it.”

Snorting, Jake nods in reply. “Yeah, I learned about a decade ago I could never talk you out of anything.”

/

She’s nervous, when Paul shows up, stomach churning at the memory of her conversation with Jake.

(What if he’s right? What if Paul isn’t the light in the fog he’s seemed?)

“Hey, you.” He’s doing it—that thing, where he’s not _smiling_ , technically, but she can just feel the sunshine radiating from him. “You excited to redo your room?”

“Yeah. I’ve never been all that invested in personal style or anything, but—I like the idea of starting over. Having a world around me than feels more like the person I am now, I guess.”

“Good,” Paul nods. “You deserve a space that feels like yours.” He cocks his head to the side, eyes questioning. “We taking your car or mine?”

And it’s—the simplest, smallest thing in the world, the fact that he asks, the fact that he’s happy either way.

(But after so long of Edward always driving everywhere without question, without her opinion or preference ever being so much as considered, just because he believed himself mora capable--)

(The fact that Paul asks means _everything_.)

“Um, I—whichever, I’m not picky. I mean, I like driving sometimes, but you know the way to where we’re going, so I feel like this time it makes more sense for you to—sorry, I’m rambling again.”

“Don’t apologize,” he laughs with a smile. “It’s cute. All good—I’m ready to rock and roll whenever you are.”

She grabs her keys and purse, and the thermos of coffee she’d already put on the counter. following him outside and locking the door behind her. Her nerves flare, but it’s more excitement than anxiety; anticipation, of both a day with Paul and the prospect of completely changing her room.

(Of creating a space where no Cullen has ever been—has ever touched.)

(The idea is…healing, almost.)

The drive to Seattle is a bit long, but it doesn’t feel it; even the silence between the two of them is comfortable. Paul gives her free reign over the radio, and she keeps it turned down pretty low, but— _progress_.

They’re about twenty minutes from the store when she bites her lip and gets up the courage to confront him. To ask the questions that have been plaguing her since talking to Jake.

“Will you—be honest with me about something?” she asks, voice barely more than a whisper.

“Anything.”

The way he says it feels like more than just an offhanded remark.

(A vow.)

“Jake has said that you, Sam, and Jared are…a gang.”

(And it’s not her brightest idea, probably, bringing this up when they’re alone in the car together, but she just can’t wait any longer. She needs it out in the open.)

Entirely unfazed, Paul rolls his eyes, though his muscles tense. “Let me guess, he thinks we’re on drugs too?”

Bella winces. “I—yeah.”

“What’s the question, then? If it’s true?”

She blows out a deep breath, trying to find the right way to phrase it. “Yes, I mean, no, I—I don’t know.” She wrings her hands, not looking at him. “”You’ve been—amazing. I’ve had a better time hanging out with you than I have in ages, and you've been so kind and thoughtful and just…I really like spending time with you.”

Paul looks over to her, eyebrows raised; he doesn’t appear as offended as she’s expected. “But?”

Biting her lip, Bella wraps her arms around her waist, in the way that’s grown comforting as of late, as though she can physically hold the broken pieces of herself together when everything else falls apart. “But Jake is my best friend. He’s been by my side through everything, and I trust him more than anyone in this world, so—if he says something is up…I believe him.”

She braces herself for anger, for rage and blame and Paul to take it personally and be upset she’s trusting a sixteen year old over him.

Instead, he says, “Good.”

(She gapes at him.)

He smiles at her shocked expression, taking one arm off the wheel to gently squeeze her shoulder with reassurance. “I’m glad your best friend is someone you trust implicitly. It’s—obviously I don’t love that the kid hates me at the moment, but I get it, and I respect him for trying to protect you from a person he sees as a threat. And I respect you for trusting his judgement, because you really _have_ only known me for a little while, and he’s proven himself to you as trustworthy your entire life.”

“You’re not mad?”

Taking a deep breath like he’s calming himself down, Paul shakes his head. “Fuck, no. I’m happy there’s someone who loves you like that in your life, and that you love him enough to trust him. Anyone who wants to be a part of your life now should be ready to prove themselves the same way he has, and respect the place he has in your heart in the meantime, you know?”

(And she’s never even considered that, but—yeah, actually.)

“As for your original question, no, we’re not on drugs.” Paul frowns, hurt just barely slipping into his expression. “I really hate that that’s what they’re all assuming, because my dad actually OD’ed—he was injured on the job as a firefighter, way back when, and they gave him oxy for the pain. And then he ended up addicted, like everyone does, going to black tar heroin just to make the need go away, and no one would help him because they’ve all heard the stereotypes about natives being alcoholic addicts and assumed the worst of him until…” He shakes his head, expressing going stoic. “Anyway, all of which to say it feels pretty shitty that people assume I would turn to the thing that ruined my dad’s life, especially one that people already use to perpetuate racism against us.”

Bella’s eyebrows draw together with frustration. “That’s—god, yeah, that’s fucked up. I know sorry doesn’t really help, but I hate that you went through that. And that it’s still a thing that’s hurting you, and that people around you don’t even…yeah. That sucks.”

“Thanks, bud.”  
She hesitates, but—she really does feel like she needs to know the truth. “What is it, though? There’s obviously—something, pulling you all together. Making you act so…”

Chuckling, Paul adjusts the AC; Bella only realizes as he does so that she’d started sweating. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you, Isabella.”

(A chill runs through her at his use of her full name; pleasant, a hum as her body feels that something about it feels _right_.)

“You have no idea what I would believe,” she says quietly, a cynical laugh escaping her. “Please, Paul. I’ve seen crazier things than this. I just…I hate not knowing. The being out of control, it—eats me alive.”

His gaze meets hers for just a beat, a split second of his eyes being off the road, but it’s—as still as his expression is, the emotion in his eyes is overwhelming at the honesty of her statement. “We’re werewolves.”

Bella’s eyes go wide. “excuse me?”

A grin fills Paul’s face, a wicked thrill in his expression. “You hear me right. I promise I’m not lying to you; all the legends are true. We’re not a gang, we’re a pack.”

“Jake told me the legends, once,” Bella mumbles to herself, thinking. “The spirit wolves, they shifted to protect the tribe…”

“From the cold ones,” Paul nods in agreement. “Yep. Sam was first, he’s the alpha. Packs in legend were always just three, but Embry’s proven that wrong, so—it’s looking like Jake is next. He’s showing all the signs.”

And it’s crazy—impossible to believe.

(But is it really so much more unlikely than vampires and mind reading and premonition and almost being murdered in a ballet studio before your boyfriend sucks poison from your veins?)

Wolves.

(Protectors.)

“You swear you’re not lying to me?” Bella demands.

Paul nods again. “Yep. Can hear your heart rate skyrocket as we speak.” He lets out a deep sigh as he pulls into park, turning to her with a serious expression. “I promise you it’s the truth. I will never lie to you, Isabella. We’re werewolves.”

She lets out a shuddering breath of relief, pulling her arms tighter around herself. “Oh, thank god.”

His brows shoot upwards with confusion. “You—what?”

She opens and closes her mouth several times, unable to speak for a moment, such is the solace at last coursing through her. “I’ve been—god, I’ve been so terrified. Knowing that vampires are out there, that they can kill you in an instant and you’ll never stand a chance, you’re just vulnerable to every one of them out there and there’s nothing you can do as a human to stop it? I just—living like this has been _hell_.” Her voice breaks as she admits it, the truth of the words painful. Her hand instinctively goes to the opposite wrist, tracing over the scar of James’s bite beneath her sweater. “Paul, I’ve been so, so scared, every minute of every day. I’ve been feeling so helpless, knowing they exist and being so entirely incapable of doing anything about it if any one of them ever decides to come after me. To know that you four are—strong enough to stop them? And actively out there keeping them away?”

Tears are starting to slip down her cheeks, and she feels a little ridiculous, getting so excessively happy at the realization that her friends are literal _werewolves_ , but she can’t help it.

(Thank _god_.)

“I—I honestly haven’t been able to sleep in months. For plenty of other reasons, too, but…” she shakes her head with a sniff. “People always say only children fear the dark. But that’s just because they don’t know the kind of monsters that dwell in it. How easily they could end us. Jesus, I—I’m actually going to be able to fall asleep again.” A laugh bubbles out of her, voice thick.

And Paul is quiet, for a beat, processing her reaction.

(That she knows about the supernatural—that she’s not at all bothered that he’s an animal sometimes.)

(That she’s been living in fear, that they’d never considered might be consuming her, alongside the loss and addiction and abandonment she’d undergone.)

He reaches a hand over tentatively for hers, lacing their fingers together, and bringing their intertwined hands to his chest. “I can’t make the fear go away. But I promise you don’t have to face it alone, anymore. I’m with you—all of us, we’re with you.”

They let go to get out of the truck, but she reaches for his hand as soon as they’re standing together on the sidewalk.

(They don’t let go again.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always, thank you again for all of your kind words!! so increidbly grateful for all of y’alls love for this story.


	7. on my way

By the time they get back to her place, it’s late afternoon; they carry all the décor and paint and other nonsense they’d bought inside, and Bella lets herself fall onto the couch, Paul following her lead and plopping down beside her.

“I am—exhausted,” she admits, making a face when she can’t help but hold back a yawn even as she says it. “Do you mind if we wait to do the actual labor and redecorating a different day?”

“Course not. One less excuse to see you I have to come up with.” He grins at the way his words make her entire face grow red. “You want me to head out?”

“No!” It’s—involuntary, the way the word escapes her. Even if she wanted to tell him to leave, she couldn’t, she just—needs him, right now, for reasons she doesn’t understand.

She messes with her hair for something to do with her hands. “I mean, if you have to, you should, of course. But you can—stay, if you’d like. We can watch a movie, or something.” She swallows heavily, without meeting his eyes. “I—I’d like you to stay, if you can.”

_(Please, please don’t go.)_

“Bella.” His voice resonates through her, gravelly and serious as it is, as he carefully grips her knee to pull her gaze to him. “I’ll _always_ want to stay.”

And he means more than just right now, she can tell; the fire in his eyes, the way his thumb moves in gentle, soothing circles over her jeans—not wandering, just a reassurance.

“I’m never leaving you. I promise.”

Her jaw clenches, and she can’t help the way her eyes water, because—she’s heard that before. She’d thought that was true once before, too.

(And Edward leaving wrecked her, but somehow, even though she’s only known him for a couple of months, she knows that Paul doing the same would be worlds worse.)

(Would obliterate her.)

“I know you have no reason to believe me,” Paul says softly. “And there are some—wolf things, that we haven’t talked about yet that will help you understand why you _can_ trust me on this, eventually. But right now, wolf aside, I just need you to know that there is nothing that could ever make me leave, human _or_ supernatural. I—” he winces. “I’d like to say I would it if it was what’s best for you, but honestly I don’t think I’m strong enough for that.”

“Good,” Bella bites out, voice strangled. “I’m pretty damn tired of other people making choices about _my_ life and claiming it’s for my own good.”

She still doesn’t believe him, though; has distrust and anxiety written in the posture of every part of her body.

Paul gently moves his hands to her shoulders, sliding them down her arms when she turns to face him.

(A pleasant tremble spirals down her spine as his warmth seeps through her body, her breathing just a bit easier, chest just a bit lighter.)

“Isabella. I promise you on everything in this world and the next that I will not leave you. Okay?”

Hesitantly, she nods, reaching her right hand to lay her fingers up over his. “Okay.”

They’re still for a beat, and she’s just—taking him in: the brown of his eyes so dark it’s almost black, the line of his cheekbone, the way the searing heat from his hands seeps through her and makes her whole body feel completely _warm_ for the first time in so, so long.

And then he’s eyeing her, and she can feel it turn almost predatory, butterflies and heat and nervousness all stirring together low in her stomach,

and she’s leaning in to him, with no specific intent but knowing there is nothing more important than getting closer to him, right now, she just _needs_ more of his skin against hers—

And then Paul’s mouth is on hers, warm and needy and demanding in the best possible way, and her hands are in his hair, on the back of his neck, just desperately tugging him closer to her even as his grip on her back does the same.

Bella moans against his lips as he pulls her so tight against him there’s not a speck of light between them, and they’re just moving together for a moment, and then she’s tugging at his shirt until he moves to tear it off, and she opens her eyes just long enough for them to widen at the sight of his bare chest.

He leans back down to her, but instead of his lips landing on hers he begins mouthing his way around her neck, and she can’t help the breathy sounds that start escaping her at the sensation, at the pleasant shiver his groans send through her.

They keep going for what could be minutes or hours, lost in each other, until Paul eventually pulls back, panting; he laughs with a wicked grin at the outraged pout Bella responds with. “We have to stop, baby. I’m not fucking you on the couch right now.”

Her heart drops, and she feels herself grow nervous and self-conscious in his presence for the first time. “You—you don’t want to—"

A disbelieving laugh escapes Paul. “Of _course_ I do—god, Isabella, you have no idea how badly I want to.” He pecks her lips once more, arms snug around her back. “And if you want to we will. But you’re tired, and your dad will be home soon, and you don’t need to be half asleep and anxious the whole time; another time, we will. Okay?”

“Mmkay,” she agrees through a yawn, still a bit salty despite the way she’s fighting to keep her eyes open.

Paul rolls his eyes fondly at her reluctance to admit just how badly she needs rest; he has to hold back the urge to beg her to sleep, now, while he’s beside her and the imprint will soothe her enough to actually _sleep_.

Bella turns on a comedy she’s fond of that he agrees to, and curls up against him, body instinctively seeking out the warmth she can’t help but hum happily as she basks in. Within five minutes she’s passed out, curled up against him, half on his lap with her head snug on his chest, the tempo of his heartbeat a lullaby.

He’s a bit tired too, and he’s just about to nod off himself when a key begins scratching at the door and he’s instantly alert; his wolf on edge at the presence of another when his mate is asleep, so vulnerable.

The second the door’s open he can smell that it’s the chief, though, the same familiar scent that permeates the entire home as the older man hangs up his belt and keys, grabbing a coke can out of the fridge.

Paul braces himself as his imprint’s father head’s towards the living room, coming to a screeching halt at the sight of him in his home.

“Lahote.” Charlie’s instantly scowling, visibly distrustful and displeased by the young man’s presence.

“Chief Swan,” Paul dips his head in a sign of respect. “Sorry for the surprise, I know I’m probably the last person you want to see after a long shift.”

Charlie doesn’t disagree, muscles tense as he takes in the scene. “The hell are you—” he pauses, eyes wide, and he swallows thickly, hard set of his jaw softening. “She’s sleeping?”

Nodding hurriedly, Paul’s careful not to jostle Bella. “Been out for half an hour or so. I’d leave, get myself out of your hair, but—I know she’s been having a lot of trouble sleeping, and she seems so peaceful right now the last thing I want to do is wake her.”

“Haven’t seen her so relaxed in—ages.” Charlie’s voice is almost a whisper, lost in the worry and love for his daughter that consume most of his waking hours. “She hasn’t had any nightmares since she’s been out?”

“No, sir.”

He nods, pensive, narrowing his eyes at Paul. “What exactly are you up to with my daughter?”

And Paul takes a deep breath, because—he doesn’t want to lie, but he also doesn’t want to overwhelm his future father in law. “Whatever she wants me to be, sir. I care about her; very, very much. I’d like to date her, but—that’s all up to her. I’m just happy to be lucky enough to have her in my life, in whatever capacity she wants that to be.”

The way Charlie’s staring him down, he’s likely picturing exactly what was happening half an hour ago.

And yeah, Paul is very much looking forward to sex with his imprint—has lots of ideas of how he’d like it to go, has thought of it a lot more than he’d like to admit.

But this is— _so much more_ than just that.

He’s had sex before, of course; has always had a pretty huge fear of commitment, and sought out like minded women who were also just seeking release and human touch. And it was all good, all the parties involved were good people he respects, and everyone knew the stakes going in—there was nothing wrong with any of the casual, and it’s not that he feels ashamed about any of it, or thinks about it in a negative light. It was what he, and the girls he slept with, all wanted.

But now he wants something different; with Bella, he _wants_ the strings even though they terrify him; yes, he wants to make her writhe and watch her legs shake, unable to walk in the best way—but he also wants to make her smile and laugh and roll her eyes, wants to watch her wake up and cook breakfast and hum as she drives to her favorite places. Wants to see the way she loves Jake and Jess, wants to learn her habits, the things that bring her joy and the things that make her cry—

(wants to curl up against her in bed and know she’s safe in his arms because he’ll destroy anything that threatens her.)

“Sir, I—I know you don’t have the best impression of me,” Paul admits, wincing. “I haven’t always been the best person I could be, and a lot of that is because of what I’ve been through, but that explains it and doesn’t excuse it. I know you have plenty of reason to believe I don’t have good intentions, here. But I give you my word that your daughter means—the world, to me. And I will do everything I can to only give her the best version of myself.”

Charlie settles into his recliner, expression still suspicious, but—

(she’s so, so peaceful. Content, and relaxed, and almost her old self—and somehow, it seems like Paul is a part of that.)

“You like football?” he asks gruffly, tugging the lever to pop up his footrest as he reaches for the remote Bella’d left on the armrest of the other side of the couch.

(It’s small, but—it’s _progress_.)

“Yes, sir. I’m not too picky, I’ll watch pretty much anything. Don’t love reality, much, but your daughter’s talked me into hate watching a couple episodes so it seems I don’t have much of a choice.”

Charlie laughs, clearly pleased. “She comes off as sweet, but she’s bossy, that one. You should see her get onto me about my blood pressure.”

And Paul feels a glimmer of hope, that they can build a relationship, too; a better one than Charlie breaking up a fight he’s been in with a bastard he’s caught raising a hand to his girlfriend, catching him drinking underage at the cliffs.

(At the end of the day, they both love Bella more than life itself, and that matters more than all the rest of it.)

/

Bella groans as she comes to, stretching and feeling like something is off—wrong—only to open her eyes and notice that Paul is gone.

She can’t help the sadness that blooms in her chest; not a huge deal, but it would’ve been nice to wake up with his presence.

(The warmth in her chest is gone, again; but the cold feels just a bit less brutal, too.)

“He just left a few minutes ago,” her father’s voice makes her jump, and she rubs at her eyes as she sits up on the couch, seeing him shoveling pizza into his mouth in the recliner.

“I—sorry, dad, you didn’t need to order pizza, I would’ve cooked.”

Charlie gives her a look. “Bella, I will survive you taking one night off from the kitchen. Seriously, kid. I did make it over a decade on my own, you know.” He chews another bite before continuing. “Besides, I didn’t order it, Paul did. We were hanging out for a while.”

Her cheeks heat at the comment, the look her dad is giving her. “He—you—what? How long have I been asleep?”

“Couple hours. Watched a game, started the next before he had to get going to help Sam with something. He offered to carry you up to your bed, too, but I said you needed to wake up at some point and get some food in you before officially knocking out for the day.”

“That—yeah, that would probably be good.” She smiles in thanks as he hands her the mostly empty pizza box, and she spies another empty on the kitchen table—likely Paul’s handiwork.

She’s quiet, for a few minutes, watching the game with him as she tries to process the day.

(Paul’s skin. His hands. His _mouth_.)

(Him calling her _baby_.)

(Him hanging out with her _dad_.)

“So, you—you like him, then? Paul, I mean.” She’s terrified to hear the answer, but; it matters, what her dad thinks. He loves her more than anyone else—is the only one who’s ever truly looked out for her.

(as much as she loves her mom, she’s never been much of a parent, and—the older Bella gets, the more she starts to resent her for it.)

(And the more grateful she is to Charlie for his steadfastness.)

(She wonders how different things would be if she’d listened to his intuition the first go around.)

“Yeah, he seems pretty okay. Willing to put up with me without you there to keep me in check just to impress me, which I like.” He smirks as he says this, earning a groan from his daughter. “Don’t worry, Bells, I didn’t interrogate him or anything. I’m saving that.”

“No scaring him away,” Bella orders, narrowing her eyes at him. “Paul is—different. Special.” She feels awkward, trying to put it into words, discussing this with her father, but—it’s important, that he knows. That he understands the ways this is different than before; that she won’t let herself be destroyed, again. “I feel—more myself, with him. Not like I have to change, or hide pieces of me, but—like I should be the most _me_ I have been in a while. It’s not…” she winces, squeezing her eyes shut. “I’m not going to fall apart again.”

Charlie sets down his plate, moving to sit beside her, an arm around her squeezing her shoulders. “Hey, Bells, it’s okay. I know. I…whatever happened before, I know there was good reason for the way you felt. You’ve always been rational and reasonable, and even if I didn’t understand, the one think I’ll always believe in is you, kid.” He kisses her hair, then clears his throat. “You’re allowed to fall apart as many times as you need—there’s no limit on what you’re allowed to feel or go through. You just better let me help you put yourself back together after.”

Bella nods, blinking back grateful tears and leaning against his shoulder. “I will.”

“Good. How long have you two been dating, anyhow?”

“We’re not—I don’t know if he wants to—” Bella makes an awkward, embarrassed face. “We’ve been hanging out for a month or so. I don’t know if—if he wants to date, or what.”

“Bells,” her father says, disbelieving, levelling her with a look. “That boy is head over heels. I don’t know how I feel about it yet, but _that_ much I’m sure of.” His mouth twitches into a grimace. “If you need—protection, or me to call and make you an appointment to get—”

“Oh, god, Dad, can we—can we please not? Definitely not right now, but—hopefully ever?” Bella nearly gags at the inquiry. “I promise, I will—take all the necessary precautions, just in case it becomes a concern. Please, let’s never talk about this again.”

“Great idea.” He holds his soda can out, and they cheers at the prospect. “He’s making you happy, though?”

“Yeah, Dad. Paul is…really good for me, I think. He—Jake hates him, and he’s okay with it, because he knows it’s out of love for me. Like, he knows he hates him, and still supports our friendship and knows that Jake has been in my life longer and comes first, and just…” she takes a deep breath. “He’s really showing me all of the things I deserve. I—I think you’ll like him a lot, when you get to know him.”

Charlie’s quiet, for a moment.

(Thinking of how easily she’d rested against the man in question, for the first time in so long; the smiling, the pieces of her he’s missed for so long that have finally begun to creep back into their house.)

“You know, I think so too, Bells.”

/

“Bella Marie Swan, is that a _hickey_?”

Jess accosts her in first period the next day; whispering, so as to not draw the attention she knows Bella doesn’t want, but clearly shocked and holding back a screech.

Bella blushes profusely, tugging up the collar of the high necked shirt she’d immediately gunned for upon seeing her reflection this morning.

(She’ll have to make a drug store run for concealer after school; has never had a need of it before.)

It had been a great night’s sleep, the couch throw pillow Paul had been leaning against her chest, the scent as soothing as his hoodie has been.

“Who?” her best friend demands, wide eyes expectant. “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me you were dating, I didn’t even know you were considering—anything like that.”

(It’s careful, the way she dodges what she’s really thinking; that she didn’t know she was recovered enough from his departure for anything of the sort.)

“I—well, I’ve been hanging out with Paul,” Bella admits, voice quiet. “It just sort of—happened, yesterday. I don’t know if we’re—what we’re doing, we’re supposed to hang out at his place to do homework later today so I guess we’ll talk about it then? But—yeah.”

Jessica beams, trying to excitedly clap her hands together without making a scene. “Oh, I can so see that! Bella, I’m so happy for you.” Her expression grows serious. “He’s been good to you? Because the second there’s a red flag, you’re out, and I’m going to kill him, and then I’ll send Leah in to dismember what’s left.”

“He’s been—perfect,” Bella promises, though her heart swells with love at her friend’s declaration. “My dad actually was asking the same thing last night; they hng out while I napped for a few hours, if you can believe that, and he seems to like him. But yes, Paul has been amazing, in every way. I…I was trying to explain it to my dad without getting to lost in my feelings, but it’s strange how much he makes me feel more like _myself_.”

She shakes her head, eyes far away as she continues. “I didn’t even notice, how much of myself I lost while I was with Edward—there was so much pressure to measure up, and…for a lot of reasons, I felt like the person I was would never be enough. But when I’m with Paul, I feel—almost amplified? Like he notices the real parts of who I am and encourages more of them, and just—isn’t trying to change anything about me, or my life. He just wants to be a part of it.”

Looking up as she finishes her monologue, she feels her face turn red at the complete surprise on Jessica’s face. “What, was that—too much?”

“No, not that. You just…” Jess shakes her head, disbelief vibrating through her. “Bella, it’s made you flinch for months, but you just—you just said his name.”

Her own jaw drops at the realization, fingers brushing up against her lips with surprise. “I did.”

_(Edward. Edward Cullen.)_

“Edward,” she whispers again, just to test herself—and it’s there, and her heart doesn’t hurt, her breathing isn’t wrong, there’s no ache in her head or her body. “Oh my god. I—I can’t believe it.”

Jess’s eyes are watering with delight, now, and she throws her arms around Bella tightly. “I’ve missed you.”

(Across the county, Paul’s wolf can feel her healing—and hums with satisfaction.)


	8. made it out

“Hey, vamp girl!”

Bella snorts at Embry as she makes her way inside the house, waving away the glare of reprimand Emily shoots him. “It’s okay, Emily. He’s a pain in the ass but I’m used to his teasing.”

“She knows if anything I say ever actually bothers her I’ll stop instantly,” Embry promises, grinning as he pulls Bella into a tight hug, lifting her off the ground and twirling her around in the air. “I’m so glad you’re in the know now! Fucking _finally_.”

“ _Embry_.”

“Love you, Em.”

Giggling, Bella swats at the side of his head gently. “Be nice to the lady of the house. But yeah, me too. You have no idea…” she trails off with a deep sigh of relief.

Emily’s brows draw with concern. “Paul mentioned that you were…glad, to hear about the wolves. I can’t imagine what it’s been like for you all these months; I’m so sorry we didn’t tell you sooner.”

“I mean you had no way of knowing—I’m just grateful to know now. It’s making it much easier to sleep at night.”

“Yeah, that and Paul’s scent, right?” Embry smirks. “Admit it, Bella Swan, you’re a wolf girl now.”

Bella rolls her eyes, not dignifying him with a response.

He prods further. “Bella, please. I can’t see my two best friends because I don’t have my phasing under control and they’re not allowed to know about the pack. I need _something_ to keep me going. Just confess you’re in love with him.”

A pillow flies through the air and whacks him in the head, a testament to Emily’s stellar aim. “Ow, rude! You can’t snuff out the truth! Bella, just admit it and I’ll shut up.”

Bright red, Bella glares at him half-heartedly. “Fine, fine, I _suppose_ it is _possible_ that I might have feelings for him.”

Embry grins, and a moment later the front door swings open, and Sam, Paul, and Jared file inside.

Bella’s thinking _what a close one_ when she catches Jared winking at her, and a prideful cockiness on Paul’s face, and—

(Fucking _wolves_.)

(This is what she gets for finding more supernatural friends; she’d forgotten how much she didn’t miss this part.)

“You all heard that, didn’t you?” she demands, feeling her flush grow even more scarlet as she tries to hide her face with her hands.

Paul moves behind her, sliding his arms around her waist as he moves to peck her on the cheek; when his face comes into view he’s smirking. “Nothing wrong with that, baby. I have feelings for you too.”

A pleasant chill runs through her at the confession, shiver down her spine enough to give her goosebumps as she leans back against him, his arms tightening around her. “Well that’s good, but I’m still a little embarrassed.” Turning her head towards Embry, she says, “Next time I cook for you I’m spitting in it, jerk.”

Sam clears his throat. “If there’s anything embarrassing about Embry you’d like to know in return we can hook you up—perks of telepathy.”

“What the hell, man! Is there no pack loyalty in this place?”

Paul growls instinctively, at the implication that his imprint _isn’t_ pack—at the assumption that she’s less of a part of them than any of them.

But then Bella’s looking at him questioningly, eyes wide, and nothing else matters. “Telepathy? You can—read minds?”

“Not like in general, or anything,” he explains, voice gruff. “But each others’, yeah, when we’re phased. Makes for better hunting as a pack.”

“Oh, okay.” She makes a face; hesitates, but—the Cullens aren’t her family anymore.

(And maybe they never were.)

“Edward, he could—read minds. It was his gift. Not my mind, for some reason, but—yeah.”

(Paul’s lips brush behind her ear, and even without speaking, somehow she can just _sense_ that he’s proud of her—that he knows how hard it’s been for her to say Edward’s name, and hearing it roll off her tongue so effortlessly makes him happy.)

Sam’s eyes narrow with focus as he processes the information. “Thank you for telling us that, Bella. If they ever come back, if they’re ever threatening us…information like that could be the difference between life and death.”

Something inside her twists at the thought, but—not at the thought of the Cullens being in danger, like she’d expect, but at the thought of anyone threatening the pack.

(The thought of anyone even considering hurting them; of _anything_ hurting Paul.)

(Of the pack that has accepted even her broken fragments as one of them being vulnerable to the very people who left her shattered without a second thought.)

“Alice has premonitions,” she’s telling them without a second thought, voice a whisper. “Jasper can sense emotions, and also influence them—I think his is the most dangerous, though he has such a dark past I think he’s the most reluctant to use it.”

Sam nods, visibly filing the facts away. “Thank you. If it ever comes to a head—if you’re okay with it, you and I might have a strategy sit down, because you know so much more about how vampires operate than I do. Anything you’re willing to impart we would be grateful for.”

She gives a half smile of agreement.

“There’s something else I want to talk about while we’re all here,” Jared pipes up. “Well, all but Leah, and one of us can fill her in.” Crossing his arms, in a tone that brokers no argument, he says, “Jacob is showing all the signs.”

The boys all tense up, speaking over each other until Emily calls out, “Stop!”

They quiet immediately, such is the respect they hold for her, though their anger and anxiety is clear on their skin.

“First, someone needs to explain to Bella what you mean so she’s not left out of the loop.”

Jared turns to the brunette with a grimace. “Right before we phase for the first time, there are certain—symptoms. A lot of them are normal, once you’re a wolf, but right before the change they’re really, really bad; anger and an incredibly sensitive temper, a fever so high you’d be sent to the emergency room except we feel completely fine, starting to tremble and shake when upset.”

Bella turns to Paul. “That one day, you started to shake when we were talking—but then it stopped.”

He nods grimly. “What you were saying, about the bloodsuckers, it made me really upset. Protective. It’s instinct to phase when angry—the wolf is when we’re at our strongest, so like, evolutionarily, we’re most able to defend and fight back in that form; as soon as emotions cross a certain threshold, our bodies instinctively push us to shift, to better fight back against whatever the threat is. With practice, and effort, we can calm ourselves down and push back the instinct—in situations like that, where me phasing would’ve been worse than useless. But yeah. That’s why you’ll notice any time one of us is shaking, they start to back away, just in case we get more upset and can’t stop from phasing.”

Bella hums with understanding, mentally tracing back through their conversations and dates thus far, seeing small moments with new eyes.

“All of which to say,” Jared continues, “that while I wouldn’t wish this on anyone, and obviously it would be nice if the leeches leaving had made it stop, the fact is he’s showing the signs, and we’re already at four. We know the legends didn’t have everything right. As much as we don’t want it to happen, we need to brace for it so we can be there for him if and when he does shift.”

The desolation on their faces; as seriously as they take the responsibility, as much as they’ve adapted and show no resentment about the way their lives have turned out…

(They so, so hope no one else has to go through it.)

(So clearly wish for more for the people they love.)

/

They make their way up to her room, and as much as she’d love to coax Paul onto the bed and convince him to have his way with her…

(She’d love the space to feel like _hers_ again more, in this moment.)

She and Charlie had repainted the day before, so the walls are a pale yellow; nothing too bright, but—hopeful.

And today, Paul had picked up breakfast on his way over, which—she’s never had such an easy time sitting with someone, conversation ebbing and flowing without ever feeling uncomfortable or forced.

The moment they’re in her room, though, his hackles are raised.

“What’s wrong?”

He shakes his head, eyes narrowed as his gaze darts around the room. “Something is here. I can smell leech.”

“I don’t—I swear he hasn’t, I haven’t lied about—”

“Hey,” Paul meets her eyes, expression serious. “I know. I would never think you had. I promise. I—I know it sounds weird to say so early, but I trust you more than anyone on this planet. Okay?”

(And it should scare her, fear of commitment that she’s developed, but—somehow it doesn’t.)

“Okay,” she whispers, nervous but somehow knowing she can trust him too.

“But there _is_ a leech smell here. Give me a second.” His eyes dart around the room, and he moves along the walls, the furniture, until he’s ripping up floorboards

And then there’s a hole in the floor, for some reason, and Paul is saying _“what the fuck?”_ but all she can hear is promises going unkept and aching memories and shattering glass and watching her life fall apart right in front of her face.

“It—it’s all been here? All along?” she breathes, feeling herself grow faint.

Paul is quelling his anger instantly, trembling subsiding the moment his imprint needs him. Without a word he’s moving to steady her as she gapes at the memorabilia newly strewn across her bedroom floor—pictures, and plane tickets, pieces of what was once her heart.

“He couldn’t even just _take_ it?” she demands, wishing she had the strength to be angry but feeling such deep hurt—

(she’s been numb and empty for so long, she’d never let herself get sad—never let herself feel the betrayal and sting and pain of it all.)

“He made sure I had no one in the world but them, pulled me away from Jake and Jess and my dad, and then they all _left_ and I had no support system, and he just—left it all in here? To taunt me? So I could never forget—never move on?” her voice is growing frantic, hysterics enveloping her, because— _why_?

(What kind of person does this?)

(What was the point of any of it?)

“I’m so sorry, baby,” Paul murmurs, squeezing her tight with one arm while the other rubs her back.

She gestures to nothing, attempting to put her feelings into words. “I just—don’t understand. Any of it. And I really don’t get why it can’t be over—it’s been _months_ , and shit like this is still popping up so I can’t have peace.”

Her voice is thick with frustration and hurt and sorrow, and she turns to bury her face in Paul’s chest, familiar scent and the feel of his warmth grounding her just enough to breathe.

Paul hums against her hair, just holding her, for a moment. “This is probably why you’ve been having so much trouble sleeping,” he murmurs after a beat. “His scent in here making you relapse every night and have to start the withdrawal process all over again.”

She pulls her face away, brows drawing together in confusion. “What are you talking about?”

(It hits him, then, that no one had thought to tell her—all this time, she’s been clueless as to why she’s seemingly falling apart, experiencing the symptoms and holding herself responsible for things out of her control.

(His heart hurts, at the thought; he presses a kiss to her collarbone before explaining.)

“I—right after we met, I came up with this theory, about why—why you’ve been having such a hard time since they left. Everything you’ve been experiencing, it lines up with what my dad went through, whenever he would go through withdrawal, so—I think the bloodsuckers’ scent is addictive, and has some sort of drugging properties. Them leaving hit you like coming off of heroin cold turkey.”

Bella chokes out a bitter laugh, eyes wide. “Of course. Everything else about them was intended to entice prey—why wouldn’t it be to immobilize them and keep them from ever leaving, too?” Her tongue pokes at her cheek, tearful and angry. “He always said I was like his personal heroin—and all along he was the one drugging me. My god.”

She moves to sit on the bed, head in her hands as she processes; Paul moves with her, quiet as she works through the information. “I didn’t mean to darken the day. Sorry, baby.”

“Don’t be.” she waves a hand to bat his concern aside. “This is—honestly helpful. I’ve been so lost for months, so _confused_ because no matter what I’ve done or how emotionally stable I am I’ve been physically struggling with him being gone and it _finally_ makes sense.”

Rubbing at her eyes, Bella shakes her head, filled with wonder and frustration. “All this time. And everything about that entire relationship, it was so—off. So not _me_. And the nightmares…” She leans into Paul with a deep sigh. “I don’t know if I’m more relieved to finally know why or pissed that so much of myself was out of my control. But thank you for telling me. And—paying enough attention to notice something was wrong and figure it out in the first place.”

“Of course.” Paul plays with a lock of her hair. “What do you want me to do with the stuff?”

“Get rid of it. _Please_. I don’t care where it goes, I just want it gone. And that part of my life to be over.”

“You’ve got it,” he promises—and then faster than she can wholly see is grabbing the pile and swinging out the door.

Moments later, when she’s started hanging décor and switching out the bed set, he’s back with empty hands and a promising smile. “Done. Now there’s nothing of him left in this house.”

(And for the first time in so long, it feels like the truth.)

Bella moves to hang the pictures of her with Jake, her dad, and Jess on her new corkboard, pausing when she hears Paul suck in a breath behind her.

She’s spinning instantly, eyes wide as she looks for whatever threat has put such horror on his face, has made him start to tremble with anger. “What? What’s wrong?”

He’s not meeting her eyes, though, gaze trained on her wrist; he takes a deep breath, and only once the shaking has subsided does he move towards her, palms gentle as he reaches for her hand, lifting it for a closer look.

It’s not till then that she realizes he’s staring at her scar, the faint bite marks humans fail to notice.

“It’s nothing,” she promises, attempting to soothe him. “I’m okay.”

“He _bit_ you?” Paul demands, voice like acid.

“No not him—well, actually he did, but only to suck the venom out. Like with a rattlesnake. Um.” She makes a face, tracing the fingers of her other hand up and down his arms. “It’s a long story, but this other vampire—a nomad, one who _did_ drink human blood—he saw me with them once and came after me, there was a little bit of an abduction and then he started to drain me but the Cullens got there in time. He’s gone, now, and I’m okay.”

It takes all of Paul’s willpower not to jump out the window and phase, such strong rage and distress coursing through him.

(They let this happen. On their watch.)

(If he ever sees Edward Cullen again, the leech is fucking _dead_.)

“You were kidnapped? And bitten?”

She’s staring back at him so earnestly, so unaffected by talking about it, so desensitized to her own trauma.

“What the _fuck_ , Isabella, that’s—I’m so sorry that happened.”

“It’s okay, really! I’m fine, and he’s not a concern anymore. And even if there were one, now I know you and the pack are out there to protect anyone.”

Paul’s jaw twitches at the comment, and she wants to ask what’s wrong but he’s still honed in on James.

“Baby, that is— _not_ fine. That’s terrifying, and awful. Have you gone to therapy or anything, to work through it?”

Bella blinks at him. “I—honestly, I never even thought about it. First I was in the hospital, and physically healing, and then—everyone kind of just wanted to put it behind them, I guess. It seemed like it would be best to just not think about it.”

(Never addressing it again, never able to heal, never actually processing the horrors she’d gone through—it’s a fucking wonder she’s still functional.)

“I think,” Paul says delicately, not wanting to push but knowing it’s important, “You should consider it. Sue does a lot of medical things for the pack, since we can’t go to a regular hospital or anything, and so she’s also been doing counseling for any of us that need it—she’s trained and qualified and everything, and knows about the supernatural so you would actually be able to be honest about what happened. It just—trauma, like that, when you don’t work through it…it doesn’t go away.” He swallows heavily. “I never went to therapy about anything with my dad, or other stuff that I’ve been through, when I was younger. And when I phased for the first time, it all came to a head, all this built up anger and resentment and hurt that I’d never dealt with welling up in the worst way. So I, uh, started doing sessions with Sue, and it—helped a lot. I’m still a hothead and all, but not one using aggression every moment of the day.”

Bella gives a slow nod, taking it all in; knowing he’d opened up largely to make her comfortable with the idea of therapy.

(To make her understand he wasn’t coming from a place of judgement, but understanding.)

“I’ll think about it,” she promises.

Because all these months, after Edward leaving, she’d thought something had gone wrong—and it had, with the withdrawal and everything, but—

(Maybe she wasn’t okay to begin with.)

(Maybe she has to admit to being broken to be able to heal.)

Later, after they’d finished setting up her room and broken in the new sheets a bit, they’re downstairs with some comedy show on; half-watching, but also talking about everything from cats to politics to faith.

(Her leg is half in his lap, warmth seeping into her while the vibration of his chest when he speaks hums against her, and it’s—perfect.)

Then there’s a key in the lock, and Bella’s on alert because it’s too early for Charlie to be off but no one else could get in—

“You have company so make sure you’re both dressed!,” Leah’s voice calls, entering the room just before she does. “Also, I’m just saying, you should probably change your spare key hiding spot once every decade or so.”

Bella raises an eyebrow at her, unfazed by the surprise visit now that she knows it’s her. “It’s _Forks_ , Leelee—I’m less worried about someone knowing where they spare key is kept than someone who doesn’t need a key at all.”

“Fair. Also, Jess and Seth are coming in right behind me so no wolf talk.”

“Why are you here, asshole?” Paul asks; his tone is playful, and he sighs but scoots over to make room for Leah to sit beside them.

Rolling her eyes, Leah elbows him in the side. “Maybe I just wanted to make sure you couldn’t have sex, just to piss you off.”

“You could do something else to annoy him without punishing me,” Bella argues, though she’s blushing from the casual way the subject is being brought up.

(She doesn’t mind it; the bluntness is refreshing, honestly, and makes the whole thing feel less taboo and intimidating.)

(It’s—nice, being able to speak openly about personal things with the people in her life.)

Paul snorts. “Yeah, which is exactly how I know that’s not why you’re here—girls don’t stop their friends from getting laid. Girl code.”

Before Leah can reply, Seth and Jessica are clambering through the house, their chatter audible the moment they step foot inside.

Leah turns to Bella and Paul with an exasperated expression. “That. _That_ is why I’m here. I needed normal people before they made me go insane.”

“You love us!” Jessica chirps, Seth beaming beside her. “She just needed other people so she wouldn’t be the only grumpy one.”

“I’m not grumpy because I don’t want to sing along to Carly Rae Jepsen and One Direction all day, for the record.”

Her brother nods. “Right, you’re grumpy for no reason. The not wanting to sing is a _side_ effect of the grumpiness.”

Groaning, Leah leans her head onto Paul’s shoulder. “Help me. If I bring his corpse home to my mother I don’t think she’ll let me have cobbler after dinner.”

“Hey, I’m worth a lot more than dessert!” Seth argues, completely serious. “I think she’d at least ground you for a few weeks too.”

“Don’t worry, Seth, I’ve got your back,” Jess winks at him. “If she tries to kill you I’ll distract her with a kiss.”

“They’ve been ganging up on me all morning,” Leah complains to the other two. “And between the both of them there’s just so much sunshine and cheer, I needed my fellow angsty depressed friends to balance it out.”

“Happy to be of service,” Paul says drily.

Bella nods in agreement. “Yeah, I’m glad my trash mental health is coming in handy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you to all of the new readers who have been leaving such kind and lovely comments!! they make my heart v happy


	9. you will see too

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the wait on this friends—things have been a little crazy on my end. All my love.

It’s almost scary, how easy it is to be with Paul—how naturally all of it comes.

There’s none of the nervousness she felt when she was with Edward; none of the discomfort, no room for her to think she might do something wrong or feel inadequate.

He’ll come over after he gets off work, happy to be in her presence even if he’s nappng the entire time or she completely ignores him to do homework or watch a game with Charlie; or she’ll go by his place after school and read while he cleans the house, till they’re both ready to watch a movie or mess around on the couch or in his room or up against the front door—

(she keeps catching her mind drifting to those moments at inopportune times, and while they’re nice memories to have it would be helpful if she could stop imagining Paul talking dirty to her when trying to finish her bio essay.)

She finds herself waiting for the other shoe to drop all the time, for it to be a trick, because surely this haphazard, chaotic happiness she’s begun to mold is too good to be true; but then there’s Paul, holding her hand or her knee, leaning up against her side, bringing her along anywhere he has to go anytime she wants to come like there’s nothing he wants more than to be with her.

(But he’s okay if she can’t hang out, too—doesn’t blink or scowl when she can’t see him all weekend because she has plans with Jess and Jake, doesn’t question it if she needs a night to herself or wants to spend the afternoon just her dad and her watching the playoffs.)

(Even on her bad days, her relationship is so solid it feels like it must be a dream.)

And the pack is such a bright addition to her world, too. Emily is the kind of sisterly/maternal older figure she’s never had but always wanted—the reason she’d so desperately clung to Alice and Esme, wishing upon wishing for that kind of relationship, someone who’s been there, and understands, and will give advice and admonish you and cry with you all the same.

And Bella and Sam are so much alike, both so independent and unwilling to lean on other people, learning to let themselves be taken care of while still feeling responsible for everyone around them—it feels good, to have someone who understands.

(Rather than the childlike treatment she’d grown used to with the Cullens.)

Jared and Embry, too, are like ridiculously goofy younger brothers she can always count on to cheer her up when the dark thoughts are taking over her mind, and being around more means spending a ton more time with Leah—things are just starting to feel _right_.

(But life has always regressed to the mean for her; highs this high always mean an even more painful low.)

(Bella knows better than to trust it.)

/

“Who’s your best friend?”

Jake gives her a suspicious look, like he doesn’t like where this is going. “What do you want?”

Bella scowls. “I brought you a _present_ , jerk, but maybe I’ll take it back if you’re going to assume the worst of me.”

“To be fair, every time you’ve historically mentioned being my best friend it’s been followed by you talking me into something that’s gotten us grounded.”

Her cheeks flush. “Okay, first of all, that’s an exaggeration, and second of all, this would only get me grounded, but being that _I_ am now a legal adult, Charlie can’t do anything about it.”

Her best friend rolls his eyes. “See, you _say_ that, but I’d be willing to bet good money we’re still going to sneak around and make sure he doesn’t find out because you’re not willing to test that.”

Making a face, Bella meets his eyes, her own pleading. “I love you?”

“What is it?” he sighs.

She leads him to the bed of her truck, feeling a little too much glee at the shock that visibly courses through him at the sight of the bikes.

“Motorcycles? Are you fucking with me? Bells, your dad will _literally_ shoot me.”

“You’re always saying you want practice with different kinds of vehicles and parts,” she points out, “And Charlie can’t get mad about it if he doesn’t find _out_ about it.”

Jake groans, scratching the back of his neck. “This is a terrible idea.”

“Listen, I’m going to do this with or without you. So _if_ my dad for some reason finds out, it can be argued you were only attempting to keep me from getting into even _more_ trouble, and not telling anyone about it because I was trying so hard to keep it a secret.”

Her expression is beseeching. “Please, Jake? I—I need to feel like myself again. In control.”

Sighing, he holds up his hands in surrender. “Fine. But I’m throwing you under the bus and saying I told you so the second this goes south.”

“I would expect nothing less.”

As reluctant as he’d been to start working on the bikes, he lights up when he starts actually working on them—any time he’s in the garage, it’s like his entire heart glows with passion.

They talk about everything and nothing while he works, Bella passing tools as requested, jotting down parts they need to buy whenever he calls out their names, practicing Quileute word pronunciations in between conversations.

It’s not till Jake’s wiping the grease off his hands with an old rag that he stops dancing around the subject, jaw tense. “You’re still dating Paul?”

And she grimaces, because she knows—knows how it looks.

How it must feel, like she’s ignoring his warnings and will come crying after.

(Like she’s going to abandon him for a bad guy boyfriend he’d told her was bad news, all over again.)

“Jake…” Bella sighs, pulling her hair back as she tries to find a way to explain. “I—there’s a lot about Paul you don’t know. And that doesn’t make your experiences with him irrelevant, and I trust and believe your judgement, but I also…you don’t know all the details.”

“Right.” He’s simmering with anger, the way she’s seen a million times, but—this is different than him being a little pissed because his dad took away his car, or his sister broke his favorite videogame.

(He’s—hurt, and angry, and the pain makes the rage worse because it’s easier to get mad than sad.)

“So what, you’re just—hanging out with Sam Uley’s gang, now? Laughing with Embry while he avoids Quil and I like we haven’t been as close as brothers since we were kids?”

Bella winces, because this is the hardest part of it all—wanting to tell him his other best friend misses him more than anything, wanting to explain how she’s watched Embry break down and cry after having to brush Jake and Quil off, wanting to promise him his friend is making himself _miserable_ because he can’t bear the thought of hurting people who mean so much to him.

(But she can’t—none of them can say anything, even though he already _knows_ all the legends, and it just—it all fucking sucks.)

“It’s not like that, Jake,” she promises, voice gentle. “Embry loves you. Always will. Things are just…complicated right now. I don’t even know all the details.”

“But you know some of them. How come he can tell he’s new best bud’s girlfriend, but not his best friend since diapers, huh? How is that him loving me, Bella? Go ahead, explain it to me. Find a way to excuse it—you’re good at that.”

The barb hurts, but she can’t blame him; can’t imagine how things look from his end.

(His father’s the chief, and he’s supposed to be the next—why can’t anyone just _tell_ him?)

(Why does everything have to be secret, so everyone’s pain is secret too—so they have to go through it all alone so unnecessarily?)

“I—” she swallows heavily, reaching for his shoulder, knowing when he gets like this the only thing that helps is hugging him tight.

But when her hand meets his skin, her eyes go wide. “Jacob, you’re burning up!”

“I’m fine. Just run hot sometimes, and we’ve been in the sun for hours.”

Even as he says it, though, it’s clear something is off—and then he starts getting mad about that too, that he feels wrong.

It’s only then that she sees it.

(He’s shaking.)

(He’s about to phase.)

“Fuck,” she whispers under her breath. She reaches for her phone, hastily dialing even as she tries to stay calm, keep from seeming like anything is wrong.

(If something she does escalates things, if it happens before any of the wolves get here—she doesn’t know how to help him through it.)

 _“Hey, baby. What’s up?”_ Paul asks as he answers on the second ring.

“Hi,” she says, working to keep her voice light and airy. “Are you or any of the other guys free right now?”

He notices something’s wrong immediately. _“Where are you? What’s wrong?.”_

“Oh, I’m just at the Blacks; it seems like Jake is coming down with something. I was wondering if you could pop by with some soup or something, he has a _really_ bad fever.”

Her boyfriend swears on the other end as she stresses the syllables, and she hears his door slam. _“I’ll be there in two minutes. If he starts shaking, you back away, you hear me? Leave, if you have to. If anything happens to you I—”_

“Sounds good,” she chirps, cutting him off. “We’ll see you soon.”

“Did you seriously just invite that asshole to my house?” Jake demands, nostrils flaring.

“He’s just going to drop off soup and leave so I don’t have to drive all the way out to the store to get you some,” she soothes. “Jake, you have to breathe. Do you want me to grab you some ice water?”

He scowls but doesn’t say no, so she hurries inside, taking a deep breath as she fills a large glass. She grabs a dishrag from the drawer as well, dampening it for his forehead before heading back outside.

He’s still trembling, but only slightly, and he reluctantly sits down, slowly sipping the water while she fusses over him, dabbing at his forehead, gently stroking his hair back.

That’s how Paul finds them, a moment later—his presence is enough to get Jake heated all over again, eyes going narrow with anger.

Paul meets Bella’s gaze, expression stony. “Isabella, you need to move away from him. He’s not safe for you right now.”

“Who the hell do you think you are?” Jake gets to his feet, and the shaking gets more violent.

Before Bella can protest, Paul is there, one arm around her waist to pull her behind him defensively, hackles raised.

The protective position only incenses Jacob more. “Don’t tell her what to do, you territorial jackass! The fuck—like _I’m_ the one she needs shielding from?”

“You need to back up, baby,” Paul says to her through his teeth. “I need to piss him off to get this over with, and I don’t want you anywhere near us when it happens.”

She backs away immediately, though the reluctance is visible in her face.

(Jake is _hurting_ —it goes against every fiber of her being to back away.)

Jake is fuming, enraged at hearing Paul tell her what to do—enraged at being treated like he’s the one who would ever hurt her. “Are you kidding me? What right do you have to act like I’m the bad guy here—I’m the one who’s been with her through all of it!

“You being with her didn’t seem to help much when that asshole was treating her like _garbage_ ,” Paul snarls, trying to incite Jake’s anger further. “What kind of best friend does nothing while a manipulative dick is emotionally abusive and treats her like furniture?”

It’s like a switch—one second Jake is there, body vibrating at top speed as he snarls—

And the next there’s a mammoth wolf in his place, long russet fur moving with the wind as he howls with confusion.

(Without even speaking to him about it, Bella knows the reason it pissed him off so easily is that he’s thought the same thing a million times—hates himself for it more than anyone else ever could, even though it’s so, so not his fault.)

Paul’s phased a moment later, to explain what’s happening, she assumes.

Jake whines a few times—panicking, probably, and knowing him more overjoyed than he should be at becoming a creature of legend.

They bark back and forth for a bit; even though their actual communication is terlepathic, they’re both very physical people, snarling to emphasize their points to each other.

After a beat, Bella hesitantly reaches a hand out. “Jake?” she whispers.

(Terrified he’ll be mad at her for keeping this from him.)

She can see Paul’s wolf turn to look out of the corner of her eye, but he’s not important right now—her gaze is locked on her best friend.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you,” she says softly. “It was killing me to keep the secret. Embry, too.” She takes a step closer to him, biting her lip. “Do you feel better now? Is there anything you need, or…do you want me to go away?”

The horse sized wolf that is Jacob makes a noise she can’t decipher, and she hesitates, for a moment—and then he’s moving toward her, nuzzling at her hand.

She laughs until he licks her cheek. “Eugh, gross, Jake! I don’t mind having a few pet dogs but if you keep that up I’ll have to put you in obedience school.”

He makes that same noise again, and she realizes.

(It’s laughter.)

(Even as a giant wolf of legend, her best friend is laughing at her.)

“Yeah, keep laughing,” she rolls her eyes. “I’ve had a month’s head start to come up with an entire supply of dog jokes.”

Assured that Jake’s stable, Paul phases back a moment later, Jake doing the same immediately after.

Paul stares at him, earning a scowl in return.

“What?” Jake demands.

“Hey, chill.” Paul says it like an order, and Jake starts to get mad, but Paul motions to where Jake’s clenched fists are already starting to tremble. “Your temper is your new number one enemy. You can’t keep a lid on it, you could end up hurting Bella—or worse.”

Jake forces out a deep breath, giving a perfunctory nod of understanding.

(He might hate Paul but he wouldn’t risk his best friend’s safety for any amount of petty rivalry, as much as he’d like to do the exact opposite just to spite the other guy.)

“Why are you watching me like that?” He asks once his anger is under control.

The older man purses his lips. “It’s taken all of us hours to calm down enough to phase back. The fact that you did it within thirty minutes is…astonishing. Really impressive.”

Jake eyes him warily, but for whatever reason appears to decide the compliment is genuine.

He plops down beside Bella, Paul mirroring him on her other side should he need to tug her out of the way again.

(And it’s—the circumstances are not ideal in the slightest, but she’s sandwiched by two of her favorite people, and she can’t help but hum in contentment at the feel of the warmth they both emnate seeping into her.)

Exhausted as he is from full time work and pulling double patrols, Paul eventually falls asleep, head on Bella’s lap as she and Jake talk.

Jake makes a face at the sight. “It’s weird to see him so—gentle. He’s different with you.”

“He is,” Bella nods with a blush. “I—I hope now that you know, and you’ll be in each other’s heads and everything, you hate him less. He…he’s really important to me.”

Her best friend rolls his eyes but nods reluctantly. “I’ll do my best. Guess now I don’t have the whole anger thing to hold against him seeing as I just considered literally biting his head off an hour ago. And I can’t possibly hate him more than I did—” He cuts off abruptly, eyes wide with horror. “Oh my god. The fuck.”

Bella’s brows scrunch together with worry. “What, what’s wrong?”

“Wolves are real. The stories are true.”

She gives him a look. “Yes? Didn’t we already cover this?”

“No, _the stories are true_ ,” he emphasizes, looking like he might be sick. “If the wolves are real, the cold ones are too. What the fuck, Bells—you were dating a _vampire_?”

Bella pretends to fix her hair to avoid his gaze, mouth scrunching with distaste. “I…yeah, I will admit, not my best moment.”

“Is that why they Sam and Paul told you—so you’d stay away form them if they came abck?”

A wince from her. “No, er I—I knew the whole time?”

He just blinks at her. “You knowingly dated a vampire. For almost a year.”

“It’s a possibility.”

“Isabella Marie what the _fuck_. I knew my best friend was a trainwreck but that is next level shit—literally what is wrong with you?”

“I…” she shrugs helplessly at him. “Honestly so many things. Although…I mean, you know how weird I was the whole time, so unlike myself and everything. Paul noticed that my behavior was—well, really similar to an addict’s. He has this theory that Edward’s smell was literally drugging me, and that’s why everything was…well, off. And then when they left, I would’ve been going through withdrawal…”

“Which is why you’ve been like a walking zombie for so long,” his face fills with understanding. “Damn, girl. You’ve been through the ringer.”

He reaches to lace his fingers through hers, careful so he doesn’t jostle Paul’s sleeping form. “Sorry I didn’t know what was happening. And—that even now, I’ve been giving you grief about something that was hurting you.”

Bella gives him a small smile, squeezing his hand reassuringly. “It's okay. I didn’t even know, how could you? I’m just glad you didn’t give up on me.”  
“Never,” he promises. “You’re not getting rid of me that easily.”

(Far away, too far for Jacob to scent, red curls ripple in the wind.)


	10. out of the woods yet

Bella’s doing homework while Paul reads, some scifi novel she’s never heard of, winding down from his shift at work.

It’s a relief, to be alone with her.

Jake has been around much more in the week since his first phase; while Paul is thrilled for his girlfriend to have her best friend back, and not at all opposed to him being around if it makes Bella this happy, the strain of hiding his imprint from one of his brothers is killing him.

Jacob will have to find out eventually; and it’s not as though he _wants_ to keep it from him.

But it feels wrong for one more person to know before Bella does.

And he can’t seem to find the words to tell her—how does one wake up one morning and tell the person they love the universe itself has deemed them destined?

That she’s it for him—they’re so young, but one another’s endgame.

That they’re soul mates.

Especially someone like Bella, who’s experienced such a fucked up rendition of mates and fate and the supernatural; who’s been told she’d found eternal love once before only to be hollowed out and cast aside.

“You okay?”

He’s shaken from his thoughts by her voice, wide brown eyes staring at him with concern.

Paul smiles reassuringly, giving a gentle squeeze with the hand resting on her thigh as he reads. “I’m fine, baby. Just thinking about some stuff.”

She hums, leaning her head on his shoulder, basking in the calmness that’s starting to feel normal.

Later, Jess comes over, Seth trailing along behind her. “Hello hello!! Paul, get off of our girlfriend, it’s my turn with her.”

Paul rolls his eyes but acquiesces. “Hi, Jess. Hey Seth.”

“Paul!” The younger boy beams up at him, practically tackling him in a hug. “You want gummy worms? I have a whole bag?”

Sighing, Paul raises an eyebrow. “And where exactly did you get gummy worms, kid?”

“I’m not above using bribery to get him to behave,” Jess admits cheerfully, plopping on the couch beside Bella. “Leah has to work a double, so we’re thinking about heading to the beach for a while. You two want to join?”

“Please please please please please?”

Bella snickers at the puppy dog face Seth sends her boyfriend’s way; he makes a face even as he gets to his feet, hands held up in surrender. “Fine, fine. You go pack us some snacks from the kitchen, okay? I’ll go grab a couple of hoodies, since I know there’s a gremlin that likes to steal mine.”

“You’re the best, baby,” Bella calls after him, cozying up to Jess on the couch while they wait.

She catches Jess eyeing her with an expression she can’t decipher. “What?”

Jess bumps her shoulder with her own. “Nothing. Just—it’s nice to see you so happy. I can’t ever remember you being so…at ease, before.”

Bella bites her lip. “What do you mean?”

“Just—you used to always seem like you were—on, all the time. Always tense, worried about making a misstep. But now you seem—wholly yourself. Comfortable in your own skin, and all that.”

She blushes at the way her friend reads her so easily. “Yeah, I…I don’t know how to explain. It’s—different, with him. I’ve never felt like this before. I don’t have to…worry about being careful, or hiding any parts of myself.”

“Well, God knows I ship it,” Jess promises with a grin. “Leah is beyond tired of hearing me squeal about how excited I am that you’re together. And Paul is practically Seth’s idol—he and Leah have sworn up and down he’s a good egg. I’m just glad to see you happy and loved the way you deserve to be.”

“Oh, I don’t—he doesn’t—we haven’t—”

Jess waves her eyebrows impishly. “Yeah, okay, he definitely does, even if he hasn’t told you to your face yet. He’s probably just worried about scaring you away. But I can see it in his eyes, Bella—and in yours. You’ve got it bad, my love.”

Bella feels everything down to her chest flush red at the truth of the statement as it resonates through her.

(She’s in love with Paul—it’s the most wonderful and terrifying thing, all wrapped into one.)

Footsteps echo down the stairs as he descends, and then Seth is babbling and dragging Jess outside to load up the car.

Paul reaches to help her to her feet, an odd smirk on his face.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Bella demands.

“No reason. Just…wondering if there’s anything you want to tell me.”

Her heart rate rises, and she groans, unable to meet his eyes when the realization hits her. “Stupid fucking supernatural hearing. Oh my god. Can I please just die of embarrassment right now.”

Paul snorts, looping his arms around her waist. “You’re ridiculous, silly girl.” He presses his lips to hers, softly and then more insistent.

She presses closer up against him, clutching at the back of his neck while his hands pull her tighter against him.

When they’re both gasping for breath, he pulls away; presses a kiss to her forehead and then leans back. “Hey.”

“Hi,” she whispers in reply, cheeks pink.

“I love you, Isabella.” It’s soft, quiet, but the most seriously he’s ever spoken to her—the gravity of his tone seeping into his expression.

She takes a deep breath.

“I know you’ve heard that before,” he says, guessing the source of her fear immediately. “But I promise I will do everything in my power to never let you down. And it’s okay if you’re not there yet—if you need time, that’s okay. But I do—Isabella, you are—you are the brightest light in this life. I love you.”

She blinks back the beginnings of tears, overwhelmed with the surge of emotion coursing through her.

Everything with Edward made her afraid of “love”—made her push everyone away, consumed by it all.

(But she’s known love—from her dad, and Jake, and Jess.)

(And now—from Paul, unlike anything else she’s ever experienced.)

(She can do this— _wants_ to do this, to let herself be honest with him and love him the way he deserves.)

“I love you too,” she tells him, voice small but sure.

/

/

It’s a Saturday afternoon; her dad is working, Paul and Jake are doing wolf things, and Jess and Angela had decided to go shopping for the day—they’d invited her, which she appreciated, but nothing in the world sounded less appealing.

All of which to say, Bella’s left to her own devices for the day.

While some people might feel lonely, the solitude is nice; she’s rarely had time alone to collect her thoughts and just recharge, lately, and as much as she loves spending time with her dad and her friends and Paul again, the constant social interaction is….draining beyond belief.

She spends the morning rereading Sense and Sensibility, letting herself relax as she soaks up the familiar words, gradually sipping at her mug of coffee.

Mid-afternoon, after she finishes the book and the chores she’d hoped to get done for the day, it hits her that she hasn’t spent much time outside in—

(well, an embarrassingly long amount of time.)

So she tugs on boots and Charlie’s worn jacket, the one she’d hijacked a month or two ago. And heads outside with a drawstring bag packed with water and a snack. She throws in her journal, too, the new one she’d recently started trying to process her feelings in, as a step midway between the hole she’d fallen into and the therapy she’s psyching herself up to pursue.

It’s ridiculous, really, because she spent her entire childhood hiking through these woods; Charlie hadn’t gotten cable till a year ago, so every summer in Forks had meant hours traipsing between trees and meadows, as much as it raised her father’s blood pressure.

And yet she’s been so cautious, for as long as she’s been living in Forks permanently; so convinced of her own incompetence, so beholden to Edward’s reminders of her vulnerability and fragility, that she hasn’t ventured into the woods on her own once.

(Not except for when Edward had left her, anyway.)

But it’s exhilarating, taking her own agency again; deep breaths tugging the fresh air into her lungs, the shine of sunlight on her skin, the crunch of leaves and the curve of fallen branches beneath her feet.

After an hour or two of hiking, she makes it to a clearing—

And her heart stops at the familiar sight of the meadow—this place that had for so long been only hers and Edwards, the exact symbol of their relationship.

She staggers, for a few steps, the shock and overwhelming hit of grief and hurt bearing down on her for the first time in so long.

(The wondering why she wasn’t enough—if she’ll ever be good enough foreveryone she ever loves.)

(If everyone who claims to love her will leave her, eventually.)

She forces herself to sit down, in the center of the clearing; the locus of a swirl of chaos she’d never known it would become.

A deep breath, and then another.

And it’s—it still hurts, of course. And there’s still that itch, that need, though it’s much fainter now than right after he’d left.

But right beside it is the knowing—that she has her father, and Jake, and Jess, through even her darkest moments. That they love her; didn’t leave her even when she left herself.

And more than anything, that she has Paul, now—that for reasons she doesn't understand, that makes everything else bearable.

She knows, now, what it looks like when someone loves you; not obsession and condescension, but harmony, and care, someone putting her needs above their own desires.

(Someone looking at her like she’s the sun—like she’s the light in his days, like she’s something strong and incredible rather than fragile.)

(Like he wants to learn everything about her, rather than change it all to suit him.)

She pulls out the journal she’s taken to writing in, as per her therapist’s instruction, and begins to jot her thoughts down aimlessly; the complicated mess of relief and love and pain flowing through her, the convoluted memories and the wondering if she’ll ever be able to trust her own mind, knowing how easily it can be tricked.

She’s there for a while, just taking in the fresh air, trying to process what she’s feeling. Enjoying the solitude, the time alone with her thoughts that’s been rare as she’s tried to put herself back together.

And though difficult, it strikes her that this is the first time in months she’s been alone and not felt—empty. The first time in months she’s been alone and felt whole.

(It feels like healing.)

It’s not sunset, not yet, but less bright than it was when she arrived, when she decides to head back.

She packs her things back up and gets to her feet. Just in time to jump when a voice behind her says, _“Bella_.”

It takes a moment; she’d only ever heard him speak twice, after all.

She spins on her heel, stiffening at the sight of Laurent, mere yards away from her.

“And here I thought I’d missed you all.” He beams, the bright white of his teeth magnetic. “The Cullens’ house seemed deserted.”

Her heart rate rises with his presence; and as he steps closer, she starts to feel dizzy, his scent drifting toward her through the air.

(That familiar scent, clinging to her, making her brain go haywire.)

_Stall, Bella, you have to stall._

“Er—yeah, they decided to move their home base, recently.”

Laurent’s eyes lock on her, expression intrigued. “They haven’t been in touch with you since, have they?”

The bright red of his eyes strikes her then—the degree of danger the situation truly poses.

 _Lie—you have to lie_.

“Oh, they check in all the time,” she forces herself to say casually, as though she’s not aware of the way Laurent’s gaze is trained on the pulsing vein of her throat. “I mean, Edward and I broke up, but we’re still close—all of the Cullens are like family to me.”

She thanks whatever gods there might be for Jess and Jake, just then—for the ways they’ve forced her to confront her feelings, for Paul helping her out of the darkness; if not for the three of them, she wouldn’t be able to so casually say Edward’s name now, she knows.

“Hm. I suppose I’ll have to apologize to them, then.”

Bella’s body goes tense. “I’m sorry?”

“It’s just that you really _do_ have the most exquisite scent, and I’m terribly thirsty. But it’s a kindness, Bella—you won’t feel a thing. So much less painful than what Victoria has planned—she’s been after you, you know, as a means of harming Edward; a mate for a mate, after all.”

“But he and I aren’t even—we—”

Laurent chuckles. “Well that won’t matter much to her, I’m afraid. It’s the only answer she can see. It’s alright, though, that’s why I’ll kill you now, you won’t have to go through any of that.”

He’s closer, then—so close she’s drowning in his scent, can’t breathe, can’t think as it immobilizes her—

“Don’t worry,” he whispers, and she can’t worry, can’t do much of anything—

Then there’s something; a sound she can’t quite hear, because all of her senses are muffled, but it seems like there might be a howl.

She’s numb—but then Laurent isn’t in front of her, anymore, and there’s movement she can’t process, howls and snarls and horse sized wolves blurring before her.

“Bella,” she hears through the fog. “Isabella. Come back to me, baby.”

She’s shaky, and cold, and there’s a painful pressure in her head—

And then warmth envelopes her, heat searing through the fabric of her clothes, and Paul’s voice is in her ear, whispering, “You’re okay, baby. Come back to me.”

“Paul?” she rasps, the heat slowly radiating through her as she comes back to herself. “Paul I—he—”

“I know,” he says softly, gentle hand on her back. “But you’re okay. The pack took care of him—he’ll never bother you again.”

“I—” she sucks in a deep breath, shaking her head as she tries to sort herself out. “I feel so—off. It was…I don’t know.”

Paul makes a face, keeps rubbing circles on her back. “I know. It was relapse, Bella; he hit you with the same stuff that messed you up when Edward left. You’re so strong, baby.”

She nods. “I—I didn’t even think.” She closes her eyes, just trying to breathe, for a moment. “God. It just never stops, does it? Never a normal day.”

Paul snorts, pressing his face into her hair. “You could say that. I blame you—you’re just too good, all us monsters want you.”

She giggles when he sucks at her neck, teasingly.

And it’s this—the fact that she just went through a traumatic experience, but the man she loves can make her laugh even as she’s still shaken; knows how to make her smile even while the adrenaline runs through her.

(Knows what she needs is to be reminded of her strength, in this moment.)

“Bells!” Jacob jogs up to them after phasing back and hastily tugging on his shorts. “You’re okay?”

“Yeah, I—just a little shaken up, I think.” She leans against Paul’s chest, breathing in the familiar smell that somehow convinces her brain she’s safe. “Thank you both for the save. Tell Sam I said thanks, too.”

Her chest twinges, at the familiar sentiment—always the one in danger, always the one needing to be rescued, all over again.

Always defenseless, helpless to whoever and whatever is around her.

(She’s so fucking _tired_ of feeling weak.)

“Hey, what’s going on in there?” Paul asks, thumb stroking her temple.

Bella jerks out of her thoughts, shaking her head slightly. “Nothing. I’m okay. Just getting caught up in my thoughts too much.” She bites her lip, eyeing him curiously. “How did you pull me out of it so quickly? It’s never been that easy to escape the fog of it all before.”

He swallows, meeting Jacob’s gaze. “Jake, will you give us a minute?”

Bella’s eyebrows draw together in confusion as Jake heads away, looking equally baffled.

For the first time in as long as she’s known him, Paul looks nervous. “Baby, I—there’s something I have to tell you.”

She stops breathing, just then—squeezes her eyes shut, bracing for the worst. “Are you—do you want to break up?”

“What the fuck—god, no, Isabella. Hell, that is—” he holds her tighter, like he can prove it’s true by cementing their skin together. “That is the last thing I want. The complete opposite of what I have to say.”

He moves to face her, then, interlocking the fingers of both hands with hers. “So. There are about a million terrible things about being a wolf—so many ways it’s made my life harder. But it also…it also comes with imprinting.”

His girlfriend scrunches her nose, and he has to restrain himself from laughing and kissing her till he can’t breathe when she says, “Like baby geese?”

He snorts, biting down on the laughter. “Not exactly. It’s like…when you see them for the first time, everything stops. It’s not gravity anymore, but them that holds you to the earth; in an instant, like magnets, you’re drawn to them, and everything in your life makes sense. And it’s not—not like obsession, or anything, and it’s—only whatever is right for both people involved,” he hurries to explain, not wanting to overwhelm her. “But they’re your other half, so it tends to just—click. I don’t know how, but the magic or the gods or— _something_ , somehow, knows, and creates the imprint bond so we can find the one, as soon as we make eye contact with them for the first time. Sam imprinted on Emily, the first time they met; and then Jared imprinted on Kim, one day in class when he asked to borrow a pencil.”

He’s rambling more than usual, anxious as he is for her response, and Bella sets a gentle hand on his jaw. “Hey, breathe. Why are you telling me this?”

“I—that day, in the diner, I imprinted on you. Isabella, I—phasing flipped my world upside down, but I would choose it every time, because it brought me to you.”

Bella’s eyes go wide, and she opens and closes her mouth several times, shocked speechless. “I—I’m your soul mate?”

Her heart rate rises as she begins to process it—the idea of forever.

(She’d thought she found it once before—let the idea of forever get to her; let it make her see Edward as almost a god.)

But it’s Paul who looks at her reverently—who challenges her, understands her, supports and encourages and loves her.

(It’s—she’s still scared of it. Still expects him to abandon her, that it’s all too good to be true.)

(But in the meantime, she’s starting to believe it’s real.)

“Yes,” Paul confirms, thumbs rubbing circles on the back of her hands. “Is that okay?”

When she’s quiet for a beat, he swallows heavily. “It doesn’t have to mean—anything you don’t want it to. We’re still just you and me. Fate’s just on our side.”

“I—okay. Wow.” She rubs at her eyes, overwhelmed, but—not upset. “So that’s why you’re able to override the—vampire scent, or drug, or whatever? Because you’re my soul mate?”

He nods, small smile gracing his face. “Yeah. The imprint bond is—stronger than anything. That’s why—when I tell you I’m never leaving, it’s not just me saying what you want to hear. It’s a promise. The only thing that could ever make me leave is you.”

His eyes lock on hers, heat simmering between them.

She’s silent for another moment, and he makes a face. “What are you thinking?”

She bites her lip. “I’m thinking…I should probably be a little freaked out, but I’m mostly just a little relieved. Which—I don’t know what that says about me, that I’m just glad to find out the universe stuck you with me forever, but…I really, really am.”

Paul rolls his eyes, even as he pulls her closer. “I’m glad the universe stuck you with me forever, too.”

She kisses his collarbone, then works her way up to his lips.

“Baby?” he murmurs against her mouth.

“Hm?”

“As much as I love making out with you—and you know I really, really do—you smell so much like leech right now.”

Bella bursts out laughing, letting herself topple over in the grass.

(Like always, Paul helps her to her feet.)


End file.
